R.T. Kaelin's Blog, page 4
April 19, 2012
This is why I write.
So, back when I announced the rewrite of Progeny, I did a little post where I offered previous readers a free Kindle copy of the revised edition if they answered a simple question about one of the characters in the book. I had planned to only do so for a short time, but the emails still trickle in, asking for the new edition. And, I send them.
I particularly enjoy it when the reader includes a little note about their experience with the book. As the people emailing me are asking for an updated copy, it is a good bet they liked the original, so the notes are generally very positive. And sometimes rather humbling.
Like this one that was in my inbox this morning:
So, whoever you are DvusLeoGirl, thank you. Notes like yours are what push me forward.
I particularly enjoy it when the reader includes a little note about their experience with the book. As the people emailing me are asking for an updated copy, it is a good bet they liked the original, so the notes are generally very positive. And sometimes rather humbling.
Like this one that was in my inbox this morning:
“I am sorry that you felt you had to do a rewrite. I have around 700 books between Kindle and iBooks, and I have only given a five star rating to five books. Progeny is one of those books. It is truly one of my all time favorite books, second only to Ender's Game. I look forward to reading the changes, so that I can be ready for book two.”
So, whoever you are DvusLeoGirl, thank you. Notes like yours are what push me forward.
April 13, 2012
Dear Reader, Who Are you?
How many of you know that I am an indie author?
I do not have a traditional publisher, although I think I would like one very much. I write, publish, market, and publicize everything I do all by my lonesome. It is a lot of work, but I enjoy it. Or at least most of it. I really like the writing part. The rest of it is necessary so I am not effectively talking to a brick wall. An author without readers is…well, just a person mashing a keyboard. We write because we want to share a story with the world. At least that is why I do it. As an indie, however, it is the ‘sharing with the world’ part that takes some extra work.
Publishing is changing. Ebooks are outselling paperbacks now. It is both an exciting and daunting time for indies. It has never been easier to get your work out there for people to read. The challenge lies in getting people to know you exist. And that part is hard.
Super, super hard.
Harder than a three-week old donut left sitting on the counter. In the sun. With a fan set on high and trained on our honey cruller. And, just to get the thing like granite, let’s add a heat lamp to the analogy.
This struggle is the reason I am writing this post. I have something very important to ask you.
Who are you and how in the heck did you find me?
Granted, I have put a lot of work into trying to get my name out there. I reach out to book blogs and solicit reviews. I do guest blog posts whenever I can (and if you would like me to do so for you, please ask). I write my own blog posts, although much less frequently than I should.
I am a member of some great online reading groups (hello, Green Dragon-ers). I tweet, facebook, and Google+. And yes, those are verbs. Because.
I have been to a couple of conventions as a part of their author track. I was at Origins and GenCon last year, and will be back at 2012 Origins in a couple months (my schedule is here).
I ran a few promotions via Amazon’s KDP Select program where you could get some of my short stories for free, hoping to get my name out there a little. It is yet to be seen how effective that was.
That’s it, though. Nothing else. I do not have a presence in a single bookstore. I do not advertise. There are no big displays of my book cover anywhere…other than the one in my basement that I had made because I thought it would be cool. And it is.
Yet somehow, in the 15+ months that Progeny has been released, I have managed to sell a couple thousand copies. Every month, when I check the sales figures, I shake my head in quiet wonder.
So, how are you finding me? Is it word of mouth? Random clicking on the internet? Did you fall asleep at your desk, smack your head into the keyboard, and inadvertently type http://www.rtkaelin.com? What is it?
I ask for purely selfish reasons, of course. If there is something I am doing that is working, I would like to do more of it, assuming I can. If this all word of mouth, well…then I suppose I can only ask all of you to talk more.
So, dear reader, who are you?
I do not have a traditional publisher, although I think I would like one very much. I write, publish, market, and publicize everything I do all by my lonesome. It is a lot of work, but I enjoy it. Or at least most of it. I really like the writing part. The rest of it is necessary so I am not effectively talking to a brick wall. An author without readers is…well, just a person mashing a keyboard. We write because we want to share a story with the world. At least that is why I do it. As an indie, however, it is the ‘sharing with the world’ part that takes some extra work.
Publishing is changing. Ebooks are outselling paperbacks now. It is both an exciting and daunting time for indies. It has never been easier to get your work out there for people to read. The challenge lies in getting people to know you exist. And that part is hard.
Super, super hard.
Harder than a three-week old donut left sitting on the counter. In the sun. With a fan set on high and trained on our honey cruller. And, just to get the thing like granite, let’s add a heat lamp to the analogy.
This struggle is the reason I am writing this post. I have something very important to ask you.
Who are you and how in the heck did you find me?
Granted, I have put a lot of work into trying to get my name out there. I reach out to book blogs and solicit reviews. I do guest blog posts whenever I can (and if you would like me to do so for you, please ask). I write my own blog posts, although much less frequently than I should.
I am a member of some great online reading groups (hello, Green Dragon-ers). I tweet, facebook, and Google+. And yes, those are verbs. Because.
I have been to a couple of conventions as a part of their author track. I was at Origins and GenCon last year, and will be back at 2012 Origins in a couple months (my schedule is here).
I ran a few promotions via Amazon’s KDP Select program where you could get some of my short stories for free, hoping to get my name out there a little. It is yet to be seen how effective that was.
That’s it, though. Nothing else. I do not have a presence in a single bookstore. I do not advertise. There are no big displays of my book cover anywhere…other than the one in my basement that I had made because I thought it would be cool. And it is.
Yet somehow, in the 15+ months that Progeny has been released, I have managed to sell a couple thousand copies. Every month, when I check the sales figures, I shake my head in quiet wonder.
So, how are you finding me? Is it word of mouth? Random clicking on the internet? Did you fall asleep at your desk, smack your head into the keyboard, and inadvertently type http://www.rtkaelin.com? What is it?
I ask for purely selfish reasons, of course. If there is something I am doing that is working, I would like to do more of it, assuming I can. If this all word of mouth, well…then I suppose I can only ask all of you to talk more.
So, dear reader, who are you?
April 12, 2012
My Schedule At Orgins
So, if you are going to be in Columbus, OH May 30-June 2, stop by Orgins, one of North America's largest game shows sponsored by GAMA.
There is a writers/authors track of seminars for the weekend and an area of the convention where you can sit and chat with the authors.
Below is the listing of my schedule:
Thursday, 5 PM: Surviving The Slushpile
Jean Rabe has edited more magazine issues than she cares to count, as well as a couple dozen anthologies. She’ll discuss what it takes to survive the slushpile, to rise to the top of the slushpile, and how to improve your odds of making a sale.
Friday, 10 AM: Tradition!
There’s still room on the bookstore shelves for traditional high fantasy. Dragons and elves and dwarves, oh my! Join our panel of writers in a discussion of the elements of traditional high fantasy and learn about the markets available.
Friday, 11 AM: Building Your World
Creating a fantasy world from scratch for your characters to adventure across can take an inordinate amount of time . . . and can keep you from actually writing. Our panelists discuss how and where to cut corners, what aspects to focus on, and offer suggestions on world-building.
Friday, 4 PM: Write What You Don’t Know
We remember English teachers lecturing: “Write what you know.” Well, we think you ought to write what you don’t know. How else can you write about space travel and alternate history and fire-breathing dragons and vampire detectives? We’ll discuss how a little research and common sense can give you just enough background to really write what you don’t know.
Saturday, 10 AM: Pushing the YA Envelope
YA fiction is edgy . . . drugs, teen pregnancies, tons of angst, and more. Are there limits to what you can put in your YA novel? Is there a line you shouldn’t cross if you want to make a sale? Our panelists discuss elements of YA fiction versus “adult” fiction and offer market suggestions for shopping your manuscript.
Saturday, 11 AM: Practice Makes Perfect
How can you tell if you’re getting better as a writer? How can you judge your progress? And what does it take to get to that next level of expertise? We’ll talk about benchmarks, writer’s groups, and how to analyze your fiction. You have to grow as a writer to compete in the marketplace; we’ll teach you how to measure your skills and to improve them.
Saturday, 12 AM: Setting Your Stage
The landscape for your fiction has a personality. It’s a compelling stage for your characters to dance on. It doesn’t matter whether you pepper it with ruins, castles, caves, or soaring cities, you have to choose what details to put in and what to leave out. Our panelists, expert world-builders all, discuss the elements of crafting vibrant settings.
Saturday, 2 PM: Writing as a Juggling Act:
So you’ve got a full-time job. How do you manage that and find time to write. All of our panelists have full-time careers outside of writing, and yet have managed to pen multiple books and dozens of short stories. It really isn’t all that difficult . . . if you juggle properly. We’ll teach you how to master the art of juggling.
Saturday, 3 PM: Self-Publishing and Small Presses:
There are alternatives to the big New York houses. In fact, some writers are finding wild success by publishing their own manuscripts or taking them to the small press. We’ll look at the options out there and examine the pros and cons. Our panelists have been published by major houses, small press markets, and have listed stories on their own electronically.
Saturday, 4 PM: Nuts and Electronic Bolts:
We can’t seem to get enough of this e-publishing topic. Actually, we’d be remiss if we didn’t offer you lots of information about the e-volution of publishing. In this seminar we’ll talk about the various markets for electronic fiction . . . magazines, anthologies, book markets, as well as how to format your submissions and how to look for places to sell to.
Saturday, 7:30 PM: Reading, R.T. Kaelin: His books are massive—books that you can use as a doorstop when you’re done reading them. But he guarantees you to only read a half-hour’s worth. Come hear why R.T. gets rave reviews.
Sunday, 10 AM: Not Your Tolkien Elves:
Author Jean Rabe fills her novels with elves, dwarves, goblins, and the like. They’re complex characters that go far beyond the race Tolkien dreamt up. She’ll discuss how to look at fantasy races from different points of view, how not to rehash what’s already printed, and how you can make elves . . . or dwarves, gnomes, or whatnot for that matter . . . fresh and engrossing.
Sunday, 11 AM: Forging an Online Presence:
Do you need a website? Should you Twitter? What about Facebook and other social media? Yes, an online presence is helpful—if not necessary—for authors. We’ll discuss the options available so you can pick and choose how to maintain an online presence and when you should draw the line so you still have time to write.
There is a writers/authors track of seminars for the weekend and an area of the convention where you can sit and chat with the authors.
Below is the listing of my schedule:
Thursday, 5 PM: Surviving The Slushpile
Jean Rabe has edited more magazine issues than she cares to count, as well as a couple dozen anthologies. She’ll discuss what it takes to survive the slushpile, to rise to the top of the slushpile, and how to improve your odds of making a sale.
Friday, 10 AM: Tradition!
There’s still room on the bookstore shelves for traditional high fantasy. Dragons and elves and dwarves, oh my! Join our panel of writers in a discussion of the elements of traditional high fantasy and learn about the markets available.
Friday, 11 AM: Building Your World
Creating a fantasy world from scratch for your characters to adventure across can take an inordinate amount of time . . . and can keep you from actually writing. Our panelists discuss how and where to cut corners, what aspects to focus on, and offer suggestions on world-building.
Friday, 4 PM: Write What You Don’t Know
We remember English teachers lecturing: “Write what you know.” Well, we think you ought to write what you don’t know. How else can you write about space travel and alternate history and fire-breathing dragons and vampire detectives? We’ll discuss how a little research and common sense can give you just enough background to really write what you don’t know.
Saturday, 10 AM: Pushing the YA Envelope
YA fiction is edgy . . . drugs, teen pregnancies, tons of angst, and more. Are there limits to what you can put in your YA novel? Is there a line you shouldn’t cross if you want to make a sale? Our panelists discuss elements of YA fiction versus “adult” fiction and offer market suggestions for shopping your manuscript.
Saturday, 11 AM: Practice Makes Perfect
How can you tell if you’re getting better as a writer? How can you judge your progress? And what does it take to get to that next level of expertise? We’ll talk about benchmarks, writer’s groups, and how to analyze your fiction. You have to grow as a writer to compete in the marketplace; we’ll teach you how to measure your skills and to improve them.
Saturday, 12 AM: Setting Your Stage
The landscape for your fiction has a personality. It’s a compelling stage for your characters to dance on. It doesn’t matter whether you pepper it with ruins, castles, caves, or soaring cities, you have to choose what details to put in and what to leave out. Our panelists, expert world-builders all, discuss the elements of crafting vibrant settings.
Saturday, 2 PM: Writing as a Juggling Act:
So you’ve got a full-time job. How do you manage that and find time to write. All of our panelists have full-time careers outside of writing, and yet have managed to pen multiple books and dozens of short stories. It really isn’t all that difficult . . . if you juggle properly. We’ll teach you how to master the art of juggling.
Saturday, 3 PM: Self-Publishing and Small Presses:
There are alternatives to the big New York houses. In fact, some writers are finding wild success by publishing their own manuscripts or taking them to the small press. We’ll look at the options out there and examine the pros and cons. Our panelists have been published by major houses, small press markets, and have listed stories on their own electronically.
Saturday, 4 PM: Nuts and Electronic Bolts:
We can’t seem to get enough of this e-publishing topic. Actually, we’d be remiss if we didn’t offer you lots of information about the e-volution of publishing. In this seminar we’ll talk about the various markets for electronic fiction . . . magazines, anthologies, book markets, as well as how to format your submissions and how to look for places to sell to.
Saturday, 7:30 PM: Reading, R.T. Kaelin: His books are massive—books that you can use as a doorstop when you’re done reading them. But he guarantees you to only read a half-hour’s worth. Come hear why R.T. gets rave reviews.
Sunday, 10 AM: Not Your Tolkien Elves:
Author Jean Rabe fills her novels with elves, dwarves, goblins, and the like. They’re complex characters that go far beyond the race Tolkien dreamt up. She’ll discuss how to look at fantasy races from different points of view, how not to rehash what’s already printed, and how you can make elves . . . or dwarves, gnomes, or whatnot for that matter . . . fresh and engrossing.
Sunday, 11 AM: Forging an Online Presence:
Do you need a website? Should you Twitter? What about Facebook and other social media? Yes, an online presence is helpful—if not necessary—for authors. We’ll discuss the options available so you can pick and choose how to maintain an online presence and when you should draw the line so you still have time to write.
April 4, 2012
Free short stories by me on Kindle...
Until Friday, April 6th, Family, the second bundle of three short stories by me, is available free for the Kindle. They are part of the Terrene Chronicles, a series of prequel short stories that take place prior to the events of Progeny (The Children of the White Lions, #1) for Kindle.
These three follow Thaddeus and Marie, the parents of Nikalys, Kenders, and Jak from Progeny.
Here is the opening of the first story, Fate.
Family
No. 4: Fate
13th day of the Turn of Lamoth, 4966
A summer heat wave had gripped Fernsford for well over a week.
The blistering weather was the primary topic of conversation in every tavern, shop, inn, house, and street corner—any place where two people happened to convene.
At dawn’s first light, the air was uncomfortably warm and muggy. By afternoon, the day was sweltering to the point where each breath felt like a gulp of exhaust from the smithy forge. Evenings were so stifling that people did nothing but stay home lounge about a tavern, drinking warm ale and complaining some more. Come nighttime, the populace was exhausted but restful sleep eluded everyone. It was impossible to sleep well in the heat.
Most citizens within the Southlands' city were convinced that a pair of the Gods and Goddesses, Mu and Sutri, had reignited their tumultuous relationship and the poor mortals of Terrene were suffering the effects.
The solitary figure bent over the striking iron, hammer in one hand and a long pole of glowing iron gripped in the other, thought such talk was pure folly. The idea the Gods and Goddesses could affect the weather seemed preposterous to him. Privately, he harbored serious doubts whether there were such things as divine beings at all. Thaddeus was a practical man and he had seen little evidence to convince him of their existence.
People ascribing the miserable weather to a pair of perhaps fictional beings bothered him, but nowhere near as much as everyone's incessant complaining about it. If anyone had a right to complain about suffering exposure to the heat, it was him. Compared to the near-oven inside the smithy, even standing in the blazing, midday sun on the hottest summer day in Fernsford would feel like a crisp, cool Harvest morning.
Thaddeus’ thick, black curly hair and quick, bright smile supposedly made him a favorite among the eligible ladies of Fernsford, yet he was not sure if his friends were mocking him with the tales. He supposed he might be good-looking, but he did not have time for such foolishness. His duties kept him extremely busy and, most of the time, he did not mind. He counted himself lucky.
The young man rhythmically, repeatedly brought down his hammer, pounding the heavy shaping hammer into the pole, trying to will the blasted metal into the desired shape. His crisp, brilliant blue eyes glistened with each strike of the hammer as sparks flew from the glowing orange end of the iron. Unfortunately, the pole was not cooperating and each blow set his headache flaring anew. Each strike against the metal might as well have been straight against his temple.
He took short breaths at regular intervals, trying to sustain his strength, all the while silently pleading for the correct shape to appear. The last thing he wanted to do was to put the pole back into the forge, reheat it, and start over again.
Glaring at the misshapen lump of metal at the end of the iron pole, Thaddeus was confident he had done something wrong. Frowning, he realized he had been using the wrong technique for well over a minute. The metal was past the point where he could hope to recover from his mistake.
“Hells…”
As there was no possibility to fix what was supposed to be the first section of a new wagon hitch, the young man halted his blows. The last clang of metal on metal rang out, echoing through the dark smithy, tolling like a final-hour bell and announcing his failure. With sweat pouring off his brow and soaking his smock, he bent over to stare at the uneven metal, silently wondering what he had done wrong this time.
As if the master blacksmith had heard his thought, an amused voice from a few feet away said, “You were striking too hard, Thaddeus. Much too hard. Whatever did that pole do to offend you?”
Looking up at his master, Thaddeus said in protest, “But you said last time I was not hitting the metal hard enough.” This had been his fourth failed attempt. The first time, he had been striking too fast; the second had been too slow.
Smiling, Mastersmith Claude pushed himself away from the tempering bench he had been leaning against and approached his frustrated apprentice. Claude Henese was in his late forties, portly, and had straight brown hair that was long enough that it fell in his eyes when he bent over the anvil. The man was short—a good six inches shorter than Thaddeus—but he carried himself with an air of supreme confidence. Master Claude might be the best blacksmith in Fernsford—perhaps in all of the eastern Southlands—and he knew it.
“I said that then because you were hitting it too softly then.” Reaching out to take the hammer from Thaddeus, he added, “Just as you are striking it too hard now." He gave Thaddeus a slight smile and said, "Move aside and I’ll show you again.”
A deep, frustrated sigh exploded from Thaddeus and he dropped—almost tossed—the pole in disgust onto the anvil, setting off a loud series of echoing clangs through the shop. Reacting quickly, he reached out and grabbed the cool end of the pole before the length of metal bounced away and fell to the floor. Should any grit or sand touch the glowing end, Thaddeus knew he would have to beat it back out again.
Gripping the pole, Thaddeus glanced at Master Claude and found the blacksmith fixing him with a deservedly reproachful glare. Upset with himself for his bad behavior, Thaddeus frowned and said dejectedly, “Sorry, Master.”
In a sharp tone, Master Claude said, “Saying ‘sorry’ will not regrow a finger, Thaddeus.” Thaddeus’ gaze shot to where the mastersmith was missing his little finger on his left hand. “What is the first thing I said to you when you stepped into my shop?”
Staring at the anvil, Thaddeus mumbled, “Be safe. Be careful. But above all, be safe and careful.”
“Ah… so you head is not as addled as it would seem, then?”
The elder blacksmith went quiet, shaking his head and peering at his apprentice. In the silence, Thaddeus clearly heard the hum of mid-morning bustle in the street outside. Normally, the resonant sounds of the smithy drowned out the muffled city noises.
After a time, Master Claude finally stopped shaking his head before letting out a heavy sigh.
“You have talent, Thaddeus. Truly, you do. And you have both the strength and determination this profession requires. But you simply must learn to take criticism better. If it were easy to learn this craft, everyone would do it.”
Nodding—which only made his head pound more—Thaddeus said, “Yes, Master.”
Fixing him with a steady eye, Master Claude said, “I was going to reheat the iron myself to show you the correct striking technique again, but after your outburst, I think you should have the honors.”
The punishment was minor, nothing more than a mundane task Thaddeus had done countless times before. Yet Thaddeus’ wounded pride coupled with his pounding headache had turned him irritable and irrational. Gritting his teeth, Thaddeus said, “Right away, Master Claude.”
Reaching down with his mitt-covered left hand, Thaddeus gripped the cool end and clamped a set of tongs on the barely-glowing end. Lifting the heavy pole with relative ease, Thaddeus turned and walked the ten paces necessary to reach the open mouth of the forge. With each step, he felt the heat radiating from the forge increase, toasting both the air and the short stubble on his chin.
Stopping two feet before the superheated orange coals glowing from within, Thaddeus closed his eyelids halfway, trying to shield his watering eyes from the intense heat. Master Claude insisted he would eventually become accustomed to the searing temperatures, but Thaddeus had spent over a year in the master's tutelage and his eyes still teared when he worked the forge.
Careful not to let the iron rod drop, Thaddeus set the tong-end down gently on the edge of the forge mouth. After wiping his watery eyes with his shirtsleeve, he slid the end of the pole into the glowing coals and waited for the metal to reach correct temperature. Sweat trickled down his brow, mixed with his tears, and dripped off his chin. He was miserable, yet determined to persevere.
Yet after only a handful of heartbeats, Thaddeus decided he had had enough of feeling like a side of beef roasting. Tossing his mitt to the ground, he untied his heavy leather smock, ripped it off, and tossed it aside. Hoping to gain some additional relief, he pulled his shirt over his head and stood shirtless in the smoky blacksmith’s shop. He frowned, disappointed to discover that he was still hot and uncomfortable.
“Hells…”
He bent over to retrieve his mitt, shoved it back on his hand, and rotated the pole in the forge, kicking up a burst of sparks and flames. After hanging his shirt on a peg in front of him, he moved to the right side of the stone forge and, with a few swift pumps of the bellows, he introduced fresh air into the forge, feeding the fire. Each burning breath he took further dried out his already parched mouth.
Turning around, he grabbed a clay jug of clean drinking water and took a deep, refreshing sip, relishing the liquid rushing down his throat, not even bothered by how warm it was from sitting near the forge. Putting the heavy jug back down on the table with a thud, he returned to the pole to check on its progress. He pulled it out to find it glowing bright; the reddish-orange color looked about right.
Using the tongs in his right hand, he lifted the rod, spun around, and hurried back to where Master Claude stood waiting, arms crossed. The mastersmith had a bemused expression on his face that gave Thaddeus pause. Slowing his step, Thaddeus wondered if he had done something wrong. He glanced at the pole and went over everything the mastersmith had taught him about the proper way to heat up a pole of this weight and size. He would bet good coin that he had done everything right.
Thaddeus shot a worried look at Master Claude as he placed the heavy pole on the anvil. The mastersmith was shaking his head slowly, an unreadable, blank expression etched on his face.
With a cocked eyebrow, the blacksmith pointed at Thaddeus' chest and asked, “Do you think it wise to walk around with hot iron like that?”
Thaddeus looked down and realized he was still shirtless.
“Is that safe, Thad?” pressed Master Claude. “Is that careful?”
As his cheeks turned red with embarrassment, Thaddeus said, “I’m sorry, Master. My mind is not on my tasks today.”
Eyeing Thaddeus closely, the blacksmith asked purposefully, “And why is that, exactly?” His overly inquisitive tone worried Thaddeus.
While sharing the reason for his absentminded condition with the mastersmith would be bad, Thaddeus did not want to lie, either. Therefore, he chose to remain silent.
Master Claude took a step closer.
“Get in a bit late from welcoming in your yearday last night?”
Thaddeus winced. He had thought he had been impressively stealthy last night, both when sneaking out of his room as well as back into the smithy. Lying now would only make things worse.
“Yes, sir. I did.” Meeting the blacksmith's eyes, he added, “I am sorry, sir.”
Master Claude studied him quietly for a long moment before letting out a small sigh.
“I understand, Thad. Truly, I do. I suppose you only turn twenty once, right?”
A flicker of hope filled Thaddeus’ chest. Thinking that he was about to get away with his willful transgression, he gave a thin smile and said hesitantly, “Yes, sir. Just once…”
Master Claude might be a strict taskmaster, but he also was a reasonable man. However, Thaddeus' blatant breaking of one of the smith's prime rules was not something Thaddeus expected Master Claude would let pass.
He gnawed on the inside of his cheek; he should have stayed in last night.
Suddenly, a whiff of peculiar smoke tickled Thaddeus' nose. After a year spent in the hazy shop, Thaddeus had come to recognize the scent of the forge. This odor was not smoke from the forge. He was about to turn and look for the source when Master Claude finally spoke.
“Did you have a good time, Thad?”
Thinking back to the late hours spent with a few friends at The Demon’s Mug, playing countless hands of knuckles and drinking too many summer lagers, Thaddeus nodded.
“Quite a time, master.”
“That's good to hear,” replied Master Claude with a genuine smile.
Thaddeus stared at the blacksmith, confused. As an apprentice, he was expected to follow Master Claude’s set schedule, which included evening curfews and early mornings, leaving nearly no time for himself. Honestly, Thaddeus did not mind the heavy, strict workload. He was lucky to have secured this apprenticeship in the first place.
Master Claude stepped forward again, stopping mere inches from Thaddeus’ face. His eyebrows drew together slowly, creating a deep furrow in his forehead.
“I am glad you enjoyed yourself, Thad. The happy memories of your revelry will help you get through the difficulties of the next few weeks.”
Thaddeus’s stomach clenched.
“Difficulties, sir?”
Master Claude nodded firmly and said, “Your duties have just increased twofold, Thad. Perhaps threefold.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Two or three, it doesn’t matter. Your tasks will be so arduous that you shall go to bed exhausted at the end of each day. And I expect that when wake up, you will still be exhausted.”
Thaddeus dropped his chin to his chest. This was the reaction he had expected. As he stared at the floor, another waft of the unusual smoke tickled his nose.
“Look at me, Thad.”
Thaddeus steeled himself and lifted his head to meet Master Claude's gaze.
“Here is what you are going to do.” With a nod of his head in the direction of the forge mouth, Master Claude said, “First, you are going to go over and extinguish your shirt before it sets the whole shop ablaze.”
Whirling around, Thaddeus saw that his tan workman’s shirt was indeed on fire, flames licking their way up from the bottom.
“Hells!”
He rushed over, grabbed the clay jug of drinking water, and dumped a little on his shirt. The drops of water that landed on the hot forge-stone hissed, evaporating in an instant. He had resisted dousing the shirt with the entire jug of water, knowing the rush of cool water might crack the forgestone. Flicking the shirt from the peg to the ground, he stamped on it, trying to put out a sleeve that was still alight. After few fervent stomps in which he kicked up a dust cloud from the dirt floor, the shirt lay extinguished.
With his back to the mastersmith, Thaddeus stared at the lump of muddy, half-burnt, completely ruined shirt, mortified by his carelessness. He shut his eyes and muttered, “Blast it.” That had been his best workshirt.
Slow, steady steps approached from behind. When Master Claude stopped beside him, Thaddeus mumbled, “I’m sorry, sir.”
“You’ve been saying that a lot today, Thad,” replied the mastersmith.
Thad remained silent, wondering the coming weeks would hold for him. He would not be surprised if Master Claude had him cleaning out the forge every night.
“Now that my shop—and probably the Merchant's Quarter—is saved from fire, we will discuss the remainder of your tasks. First, you have the rest of the day off. No smithing for you today.”
Surprised, Thaddeus opened his eyes and turned to stare at his master.
“Pardon, sir?”
“You are of no use to me in your condition, Thad. This is a dangerous trade.” Pulling up his left sleeve, Master Claude pointed at the long, thick, raised scar that ran the length of his forearm. “I got this when I was an apprentice because I was not paying attention. I will not have you make the same mistake.”
Thaddeus had always wondered about the injury but had never asked his master how it had happened. Among the sub-culture of blacksmiths, it was not something about which members spoke.
“However, Thad…do not think the day is yours to do with as you please.” He cocked an eyebrow and said, “Not any longer, anyway.”
Confused, Thaddeus asked, “Sir?”
Master Claude sighed and shook his head slowly.
“I had planned on giving you the afternoon and night off today, Thad. It is your yearday, after all.”
Thaddeus' heart sank and he rolled his eyes, angry with himself for not waiting one more day.
“But instead of relaxing, you will go see Oren Tailor and purchase a new shirt. Tell him to deduct its cost from what he owes me.” A slight grin spread over his lips and a strange, conspiratorial tone entered his voice as he added, “And tell Oren hello for me, will you? He always insists he's too busy to speak with me when I stop by, but I suspect you will get his full attention.”
Thaddeus' eyes narrowed and he cocked his head to the side, not understanding the man’s meaning.
“Pardon, sir?”
“Nothing, Thad.” Master Claude’s gaze turned steady and strong. “Now, when you return—straight away, mind you—I want you to scour the shop until it is cleaner than it was the day I opened it. Each tool is to be wiped down and appropriately sharpened or oiled. Then, tonight when I am done with the day’s work, you will sweep and scrub the forge. Oh, and have it ready and hot again by sunup.”
Thaddeus groaned inwardly. Cleaning the forge meant no sleep for him tonight. It would take until well past midnight for the coals to cool to a point he could even begin to clean it safely.
“And then tomorrow—just as Mu’s orb is peeking over the eastern horizon—we will start with your lessons again and you will finish that wagon hitch, do you understand?”
In a meek, humble tone, Thaddeus murmured, “Yes, sir.”
Master Claude gave a firm nod and slapped his back, his palm smacking Thaddeus skin.
“Good. Now get going.”
“Yes, Master Claude.”
Thaddeus turned around and headed for the door that led to his room. He planned on washing up and retrieving a new shirt for his trip across the district to the threadspinner. He had only taken a single step when Master Claude spoke in a quiet, calm voice.
“Where are you going, Thad?”
Turning to face his teacher, Thaddeus eyed the smith oddly.
“To clean up, sir?”
He held out his arms to show his hands and forearms covered with enough soot that it looked as if he were wearing black gauntlets. Thaddeus expected his face was a filthy as his hands.
“Was that on your list of instructions?” asked Master Claude crisply.
Cringing, Thaddeus shook his head.
“No, sir. It was not…”
Master Claude pointed to the front door of the smithy and said, “Go on, then. Be sure to hurry back.” The mastersmith was going to make him walk across the district shirtless and filthy.
Hanging his head, Thaddeus stepped past the mastersmith and walked across the dimly lit room, ducking under and around the various tools of the trade hanging from hooks and pegs, silently swearing to never disobey the man again.
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These three follow Thaddeus and Marie, the parents of Nikalys, Kenders, and Jak from Progeny.
Here is the opening of the first story, Fate.
Family
No. 4: Fate
13th day of the Turn of Lamoth, 4966
A summer heat wave had gripped Fernsford for well over a week.
The blistering weather was the primary topic of conversation in every tavern, shop, inn, house, and street corner—any place where two people happened to convene.
At dawn’s first light, the air was uncomfortably warm and muggy. By afternoon, the day was sweltering to the point where each breath felt like a gulp of exhaust from the smithy forge. Evenings were so stifling that people did nothing but stay home lounge about a tavern, drinking warm ale and complaining some more. Come nighttime, the populace was exhausted but restful sleep eluded everyone. It was impossible to sleep well in the heat.
Most citizens within the Southlands' city were convinced that a pair of the Gods and Goddesses, Mu and Sutri, had reignited their tumultuous relationship and the poor mortals of Terrene were suffering the effects.
The solitary figure bent over the striking iron, hammer in one hand and a long pole of glowing iron gripped in the other, thought such talk was pure folly. The idea the Gods and Goddesses could affect the weather seemed preposterous to him. Privately, he harbored serious doubts whether there were such things as divine beings at all. Thaddeus was a practical man and he had seen little evidence to convince him of their existence.
People ascribing the miserable weather to a pair of perhaps fictional beings bothered him, but nowhere near as much as everyone's incessant complaining about it. If anyone had a right to complain about suffering exposure to the heat, it was him. Compared to the near-oven inside the smithy, even standing in the blazing, midday sun on the hottest summer day in Fernsford would feel like a crisp, cool Harvest morning.
Thaddeus’ thick, black curly hair and quick, bright smile supposedly made him a favorite among the eligible ladies of Fernsford, yet he was not sure if his friends were mocking him with the tales. He supposed he might be good-looking, but he did not have time for such foolishness. His duties kept him extremely busy and, most of the time, he did not mind. He counted himself lucky.
The young man rhythmically, repeatedly brought down his hammer, pounding the heavy shaping hammer into the pole, trying to will the blasted metal into the desired shape. His crisp, brilliant blue eyes glistened with each strike of the hammer as sparks flew from the glowing orange end of the iron. Unfortunately, the pole was not cooperating and each blow set his headache flaring anew. Each strike against the metal might as well have been straight against his temple.
He took short breaths at regular intervals, trying to sustain his strength, all the while silently pleading for the correct shape to appear. The last thing he wanted to do was to put the pole back into the forge, reheat it, and start over again.
Glaring at the misshapen lump of metal at the end of the iron pole, Thaddeus was confident he had done something wrong. Frowning, he realized he had been using the wrong technique for well over a minute. The metal was past the point where he could hope to recover from his mistake.
“Hells…”
As there was no possibility to fix what was supposed to be the first section of a new wagon hitch, the young man halted his blows. The last clang of metal on metal rang out, echoing through the dark smithy, tolling like a final-hour bell and announcing his failure. With sweat pouring off his brow and soaking his smock, he bent over to stare at the uneven metal, silently wondering what he had done wrong this time.
As if the master blacksmith had heard his thought, an amused voice from a few feet away said, “You were striking too hard, Thaddeus. Much too hard. Whatever did that pole do to offend you?”
Looking up at his master, Thaddeus said in protest, “But you said last time I was not hitting the metal hard enough.” This had been his fourth failed attempt. The first time, he had been striking too fast; the second had been too slow.
Smiling, Mastersmith Claude pushed himself away from the tempering bench he had been leaning against and approached his frustrated apprentice. Claude Henese was in his late forties, portly, and had straight brown hair that was long enough that it fell in his eyes when he bent over the anvil. The man was short—a good six inches shorter than Thaddeus—but he carried himself with an air of supreme confidence. Master Claude might be the best blacksmith in Fernsford—perhaps in all of the eastern Southlands—and he knew it.
“I said that then because you were hitting it too softly then.” Reaching out to take the hammer from Thaddeus, he added, “Just as you are striking it too hard now." He gave Thaddeus a slight smile and said, "Move aside and I’ll show you again.”
A deep, frustrated sigh exploded from Thaddeus and he dropped—almost tossed—the pole in disgust onto the anvil, setting off a loud series of echoing clangs through the shop. Reacting quickly, he reached out and grabbed the cool end of the pole before the length of metal bounced away and fell to the floor. Should any grit or sand touch the glowing end, Thaddeus knew he would have to beat it back out again.
Gripping the pole, Thaddeus glanced at Master Claude and found the blacksmith fixing him with a deservedly reproachful glare. Upset with himself for his bad behavior, Thaddeus frowned and said dejectedly, “Sorry, Master.”
In a sharp tone, Master Claude said, “Saying ‘sorry’ will not regrow a finger, Thaddeus.” Thaddeus’ gaze shot to where the mastersmith was missing his little finger on his left hand. “What is the first thing I said to you when you stepped into my shop?”
Staring at the anvil, Thaddeus mumbled, “Be safe. Be careful. But above all, be safe and careful.”
“Ah… so you head is not as addled as it would seem, then?”
The elder blacksmith went quiet, shaking his head and peering at his apprentice. In the silence, Thaddeus clearly heard the hum of mid-morning bustle in the street outside. Normally, the resonant sounds of the smithy drowned out the muffled city noises.
After a time, Master Claude finally stopped shaking his head before letting out a heavy sigh.
“You have talent, Thaddeus. Truly, you do. And you have both the strength and determination this profession requires. But you simply must learn to take criticism better. If it were easy to learn this craft, everyone would do it.”
Nodding—which only made his head pound more—Thaddeus said, “Yes, Master.”
Fixing him with a steady eye, Master Claude said, “I was going to reheat the iron myself to show you the correct striking technique again, but after your outburst, I think you should have the honors.”
The punishment was minor, nothing more than a mundane task Thaddeus had done countless times before. Yet Thaddeus’ wounded pride coupled with his pounding headache had turned him irritable and irrational. Gritting his teeth, Thaddeus said, “Right away, Master Claude.”
Reaching down with his mitt-covered left hand, Thaddeus gripped the cool end and clamped a set of tongs on the barely-glowing end. Lifting the heavy pole with relative ease, Thaddeus turned and walked the ten paces necessary to reach the open mouth of the forge. With each step, he felt the heat radiating from the forge increase, toasting both the air and the short stubble on his chin.
Stopping two feet before the superheated orange coals glowing from within, Thaddeus closed his eyelids halfway, trying to shield his watering eyes from the intense heat. Master Claude insisted he would eventually become accustomed to the searing temperatures, but Thaddeus had spent over a year in the master's tutelage and his eyes still teared when he worked the forge.
Careful not to let the iron rod drop, Thaddeus set the tong-end down gently on the edge of the forge mouth. After wiping his watery eyes with his shirtsleeve, he slid the end of the pole into the glowing coals and waited for the metal to reach correct temperature. Sweat trickled down his brow, mixed with his tears, and dripped off his chin. He was miserable, yet determined to persevere.
Yet after only a handful of heartbeats, Thaddeus decided he had had enough of feeling like a side of beef roasting. Tossing his mitt to the ground, he untied his heavy leather smock, ripped it off, and tossed it aside. Hoping to gain some additional relief, he pulled his shirt over his head and stood shirtless in the smoky blacksmith’s shop. He frowned, disappointed to discover that he was still hot and uncomfortable.
“Hells…”
He bent over to retrieve his mitt, shoved it back on his hand, and rotated the pole in the forge, kicking up a burst of sparks and flames. After hanging his shirt on a peg in front of him, he moved to the right side of the stone forge and, with a few swift pumps of the bellows, he introduced fresh air into the forge, feeding the fire. Each burning breath he took further dried out his already parched mouth.
Turning around, he grabbed a clay jug of clean drinking water and took a deep, refreshing sip, relishing the liquid rushing down his throat, not even bothered by how warm it was from sitting near the forge. Putting the heavy jug back down on the table with a thud, he returned to the pole to check on its progress. He pulled it out to find it glowing bright; the reddish-orange color looked about right.
Using the tongs in his right hand, he lifted the rod, spun around, and hurried back to where Master Claude stood waiting, arms crossed. The mastersmith had a bemused expression on his face that gave Thaddeus pause. Slowing his step, Thaddeus wondered if he had done something wrong. He glanced at the pole and went over everything the mastersmith had taught him about the proper way to heat up a pole of this weight and size. He would bet good coin that he had done everything right.
Thaddeus shot a worried look at Master Claude as he placed the heavy pole on the anvil. The mastersmith was shaking his head slowly, an unreadable, blank expression etched on his face.
With a cocked eyebrow, the blacksmith pointed at Thaddeus' chest and asked, “Do you think it wise to walk around with hot iron like that?”
Thaddeus looked down and realized he was still shirtless.
“Is that safe, Thad?” pressed Master Claude. “Is that careful?”
As his cheeks turned red with embarrassment, Thaddeus said, “I’m sorry, Master. My mind is not on my tasks today.”
Eyeing Thaddeus closely, the blacksmith asked purposefully, “And why is that, exactly?” His overly inquisitive tone worried Thaddeus.
While sharing the reason for his absentminded condition with the mastersmith would be bad, Thaddeus did not want to lie, either. Therefore, he chose to remain silent.
Master Claude took a step closer.
“Get in a bit late from welcoming in your yearday last night?”
Thaddeus winced. He had thought he had been impressively stealthy last night, both when sneaking out of his room as well as back into the smithy. Lying now would only make things worse.
“Yes, sir. I did.” Meeting the blacksmith's eyes, he added, “I am sorry, sir.”
Master Claude studied him quietly for a long moment before letting out a small sigh.
“I understand, Thad. Truly, I do. I suppose you only turn twenty once, right?”
A flicker of hope filled Thaddeus’ chest. Thinking that he was about to get away with his willful transgression, he gave a thin smile and said hesitantly, “Yes, sir. Just once…”
Master Claude might be a strict taskmaster, but he also was a reasonable man. However, Thaddeus' blatant breaking of one of the smith's prime rules was not something Thaddeus expected Master Claude would let pass.
He gnawed on the inside of his cheek; he should have stayed in last night.
Suddenly, a whiff of peculiar smoke tickled Thaddeus' nose. After a year spent in the hazy shop, Thaddeus had come to recognize the scent of the forge. This odor was not smoke from the forge. He was about to turn and look for the source when Master Claude finally spoke.
“Did you have a good time, Thad?”
Thinking back to the late hours spent with a few friends at The Demon’s Mug, playing countless hands of knuckles and drinking too many summer lagers, Thaddeus nodded.
“Quite a time, master.”
“That's good to hear,” replied Master Claude with a genuine smile.
Thaddeus stared at the blacksmith, confused. As an apprentice, he was expected to follow Master Claude’s set schedule, which included evening curfews and early mornings, leaving nearly no time for himself. Honestly, Thaddeus did not mind the heavy, strict workload. He was lucky to have secured this apprenticeship in the first place.
Master Claude stepped forward again, stopping mere inches from Thaddeus’ face. His eyebrows drew together slowly, creating a deep furrow in his forehead.
“I am glad you enjoyed yourself, Thad. The happy memories of your revelry will help you get through the difficulties of the next few weeks.”
Thaddeus’s stomach clenched.
“Difficulties, sir?”
Master Claude nodded firmly and said, “Your duties have just increased twofold, Thad. Perhaps threefold.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Two or three, it doesn’t matter. Your tasks will be so arduous that you shall go to bed exhausted at the end of each day. And I expect that when wake up, you will still be exhausted.”
Thaddeus dropped his chin to his chest. This was the reaction he had expected. As he stared at the floor, another waft of the unusual smoke tickled his nose.
“Look at me, Thad.”
Thaddeus steeled himself and lifted his head to meet Master Claude's gaze.
“Here is what you are going to do.” With a nod of his head in the direction of the forge mouth, Master Claude said, “First, you are going to go over and extinguish your shirt before it sets the whole shop ablaze.”
Whirling around, Thaddeus saw that his tan workman’s shirt was indeed on fire, flames licking their way up from the bottom.
“Hells!”
He rushed over, grabbed the clay jug of drinking water, and dumped a little on his shirt. The drops of water that landed on the hot forge-stone hissed, evaporating in an instant. He had resisted dousing the shirt with the entire jug of water, knowing the rush of cool water might crack the forgestone. Flicking the shirt from the peg to the ground, he stamped on it, trying to put out a sleeve that was still alight. After few fervent stomps in which he kicked up a dust cloud from the dirt floor, the shirt lay extinguished.
With his back to the mastersmith, Thaddeus stared at the lump of muddy, half-burnt, completely ruined shirt, mortified by his carelessness. He shut his eyes and muttered, “Blast it.” That had been his best workshirt.
Slow, steady steps approached from behind. When Master Claude stopped beside him, Thaddeus mumbled, “I’m sorry, sir.”
“You’ve been saying that a lot today, Thad,” replied the mastersmith.
Thad remained silent, wondering the coming weeks would hold for him. He would not be surprised if Master Claude had him cleaning out the forge every night.
“Now that my shop—and probably the Merchant's Quarter—is saved from fire, we will discuss the remainder of your tasks. First, you have the rest of the day off. No smithing for you today.”
Surprised, Thaddeus opened his eyes and turned to stare at his master.
“Pardon, sir?”
“You are of no use to me in your condition, Thad. This is a dangerous trade.” Pulling up his left sleeve, Master Claude pointed at the long, thick, raised scar that ran the length of his forearm. “I got this when I was an apprentice because I was not paying attention. I will not have you make the same mistake.”
Thaddeus had always wondered about the injury but had never asked his master how it had happened. Among the sub-culture of blacksmiths, it was not something about which members spoke.
“However, Thad…do not think the day is yours to do with as you please.” He cocked an eyebrow and said, “Not any longer, anyway.”
Confused, Thaddeus asked, “Sir?”
Master Claude sighed and shook his head slowly.
“I had planned on giving you the afternoon and night off today, Thad. It is your yearday, after all.”
Thaddeus' heart sank and he rolled his eyes, angry with himself for not waiting one more day.
“But instead of relaxing, you will go see Oren Tailor and purchase a new shirt. Tell him to deduct its cost from what he owes me.” A slight grin spread over his lips and a strange, conspiratorial tone entered his voice as he added, “And tell Oren hello for me, will you? He always insists he's too busy to speak with me when I stop by, but I suspect you will get his full attention.”
Thaddeus' eyes narrowed and he cocked his head to the side, not understanding the man’s meaning.
“Pardon, sir?”
“Nothing, Thad.” Master Claude’s gaze turned steady and strong. “Now, when you return—straight away, mind you—I want you to scour the shop until it is cleaner than it was the day I opened it. Each tool is to be wiped down and appropriately sharpened or oiled. Then, tonight when I am done with the day’s work, you will sweep and scrub the forge. Oh, and have it ready and hot again by sunup.”
Thaddeus groaned inwardly. Cleaning the forge meant no sleep for him tonight. It would take until well past midnight for the coals to cool to a point he could even begin to clean it safely.
“And then tomorrow—just as Mu’s orb is peeking over the eastern horizon—we will start with your lessons again and you will finish that wagon hitch, do you understand?”
In a meek, humble tone, Thaddeus murmured, “Yes, sir.”
Master Claude gave a firm nod and slapped his back, his palm smacking Thaddeus skin.
“Good. Now get going.”
“Yes, Master Claude.”
Thaddeus turned around and headed for the door that led to his room. He planned on washing up and retrieving a new shirt for his trip across the district to the threadspinner. He had only taken a single step when Master Claude spoke in a quiet, calm voice.
“Where are you going, Thad?”
Turning to face his teacher, Thaddeus eyed the smith oddly.
“To clean up, sir?”
He held out his arms to show his hands and forearms covered with enough soot that it looked as if he were wearing black gauntlets. Thaddeus expected his face was a filthy as his hands.
“Was that on your list of instructions?” asked Master Claude crisply.
Cringing, Thaddeus shook his head.
“No, sir. It was not…”
Master Claude pointed to the front door of the smithy and said, “Go on, then. Be sure to hurry back.” The mastersmith was going to make him walk across the district shirtless and filthy.
Hanging his head, Thaddeus stepped past the mastersmith and walked across the dimly lit room, ducking under and around the various tools of the trade hanging from hooks and pegs, silently swearing to never disobey the man again.
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February 14, 2012
Why I Rewrote an Already Published Book...
If life is a journey, my life as an author has been a meandering one full of wrong exits, unintended pit-stops, and wrong turns. I should have bought a map.
Progeny was my debut effort as a novelist. When I first released it in December 2010 as an indie author, I believed I had created a wonderful tale worthy of sharing with the world. To this day, that belief holds true. However, my ability to weave a story far outpaced my skill as a writer. I might have told a good story, but I had not written a good book.
Close to a year after I published, a series of events opened my eyes to many of my shortcomings as a writer and helped spur me to improve.
In November of 2011, I had a wonderful opportunity presented to me. Someone in the traditional publishing industry wanted to read Progeny. Someone who could make things happen for this book. Naturally, I was quite excited and off the manuscript went.
All through the holiday season, I anxiously awaited a reply. And in mid-December, I received one: a polite ‘No, thank you.’
The individual and two of his readers had read the book and had a list of concerns. While they liked much of what was there, the criticisms offered were more than legitimate. They were spot on. Things about story structure. Things about character arcs. Things about trying to jam too much into one book.
Criticism, even when it is honest and good, stings. However, I did not get angry. I trusted what they had to say. They know the business. They know what sells. And Progeny, as it was in that form, would not advance beyond the group of loyal readers I had garnered.
But I wanted more than that.
I chose to treat the rejection as another opportunity. Few writers get such great feedback from experts this early in their career. So, I thanked the person for the constructive criticism and I shared that I was planning to do a true re-evaluation and rewrite of Progeny. Not just a touch-up, but a true rip-it-apart-into-tiny-pieces-and-put-it-back-together rewrite. I would axe chunks that did not work and write new ones that did. I would fix what I needed to fix.
I sent off the email without expecting to hear a response, so I was quite surprised when I received one. The individual sent me all of the notes taken on the book and asked to read the rewrite once completed, cautioning me that this was not something typically done in the industry. Gracious, I thanked them and got to work.
Which brings me to now.
Massive changes have been made to the book. While the guts of the plot remain the same, much of the book is very, very different. Readers of the original will certainly notice the changes—some might be jarring at first—but I promise this: I have not changed what so many of you have told me you loved. In fact, I have added a bit more of that while extracting what bogged down the story.
The original 40 chapters, 308k words is now 72 chapters, but at 285k words. Chapters are shorter, crisper chunks. I ended cutting about 45-50k of fluff, but added about 25k of new scenes to allow better character development. I do not miss what is gone and love what is there now. There are even five new chapters sprinkled throughout the tale.
The pacing is infinitely better. No more action scenes or conversations interrupted by three pages of background history. Story structure—something that I, as a novice, never considered—was a major focus of my rewrite. Dialogue is quicker and snappier where appropriate, but slower and deliberate when it needs to be.
Why am I sharing this with you?
Well, I want this letter to be a ‘thank you’ to the readers who have been on this journey with me from the beginning, and I want to promise you that the new version of Progeny is every bit the book you enjoyed the first go around, and more. To new readers…well, consider this a nice “behind the curtains” look at an indie author’s journey as he tries to make a name for himself.
While I am having the book professionally edited before I resubmit, I wanted the new edition—in its current state—available to the public now. Too much has changed for me to leave the old out there. A few trusted readers have re-read this edition for me, proofing as they went. I feel comfortable the typos and dropped words (my bane) are at a minimum. I am ready to turn the page on the old edition.
Anyone who has already read Progeny and would like a new ebook copy, send me an email at rtkaelin@terrene.info with your email address as well as the answer to this question: What is Nundle’s last name? If you are right, I will send you a new copy (let me know if you prefer Kindle or Nook).
I have received quite a few inquiries about the state of the second book in the series, so let me give you a short update. I am currently re-editing all of the short stories to line up with the changes in the book, and then I move into editing book two’s manuscript. It has been complete for six months, but I need to apply what I have recently learned.
One last note before I go.
As I was editing the re-write, I happened to glance back at the acknowledgments I wrote in the original edition. When I read the last few lines, I chuckled aloud, amused by the prophetic nature of my words.
I am still traveling. Thanks for coming with me.
Good days ahead.
Progeny was my debut effort as a novelist. When I first released it in December 2010 as an indie author, I believed I had created a wonderful tale worthy of sharing with the world. To this day, that belief holds true. However, my ability to weave a story far outpaced my skill as a writer. I might have told a good story, but I had not written a good book.
Close to a year after I published, a series of events opened my eyes to many of my shortcomings as a writer and helped spur me to improve.
In November of 2011, I had a wonderful opportunity presented to me. Someone in the traditional publishing industry wanted to read Progeny. Someone who could make things happen for this book. Naturally, I was quite excited and off the manuscript went.
All through the holiday season, I anxiously awaited a reply. And in mid-December, I received one: a polite ‘No, thank you.’
The individual and two of his readers had read the book and had a list of concerns. While they liked much of what was there, the criticisms offered were more than legitimate. They were spot on. Things about story structure. Things about character arcs. Things about trying to jam too much into one book.
Criticism, even when it is honest and good, stings. However, I did not get angry. I trusted what they had to say. They know the business. They know what sells. And Progeny, as it was in that form, would not advance beyond the group of loyal readers I had garnered.
But I wanted more than that.
I chose to treat the rejection as another opportunity. Few writers get such great feedback from experts this early in their career. So, I thanked the person for the constructive criticism and I shared that I was planning to do a true re-evaluation and rewrite of Progeny. Not just a touch-up, but a true rip-it-apart-into-tiny-pieces-and-put-it-back-together rewrite. I would axe chunks that did not work and write new ones that did. I would fix what I needed to fix.
I sent off the email without expecting to hear a response, so I was quite surprised when I received one. The individual sent me all of the notes taken on the book and asked to read the rewrite once completed, cautioning me that this was not something typically done in the industry. Gracious, I thanked them and got to work.
Which brings me to now.
Massive changes have been made to the book. While the guts of the plot remain the same, much of the book is very, very different. Readers of the original will certainly notice the changes—some might be jarring at first—but I promise this: I have not changed what so many of you have told me you loved. In fact, I have added a bit more of that while extracting what bogged down the story.
The original 40 chapters, 308k words is now 72 chapters, but at 285k words. Chapters are shorter, crisper chunks. I ended cutting about 45-50k of fluff, but added about 25k of new scenes to allow better character development. I do not miss what is gone and love what is there now. There are even five new chapters sprinkled throughout the tale.
The pacing is infinitely better. No more action scenes or conversations interrupted by three pages of background history. Story structure—something that I, as a novice, never considered—was a major focus of my rewrite. Dialogue is quicker and snappier where appropriate, but slower and deliberate when it needs to be.
Why am I sharing this with you?
Well, I want this letter to be a ‘thank you’ to the readers who have been on this journey with me from the beginning, and I want to promise you that the new version of Progeny is every bit the book you enjoyed the first go around, and more. To new readers…well, consider this a nice “behind the curtains” look at an indie author’s journey as he tries to make a name for himself.
While I am having the book professionally edited before I resubmit, I wanted the new edition—in its current state—available to the public now. Too much has changed for me to leave the old out there. A few trusted readers have re-read this edition for me, proofing as they went. I feel comfortable the typos and dropped words (my bane) are at a minimum. I am ready to turn the page on the old edition.
Anyone who has already read Progeny and would like a new ebook copy, send me an email at rtkaelin@terrene.info with your email address as well as the answer to this question: What is Nundle’s last name? If you are right, I will send you a new copy (let me know if you prefer Kindle or Nook).
I have received quite a few inquiries about the state of the second book in the series, so let me give you a short update. I am currently re-editing all of the short stories to line up with the changes in the book, and then I move into editing book two’s manuscript. It has been complete for six months, but I need to apply what I have recently learned.
One last note before I go.
As I was editing the re-write, I happened to glance back at the acknowledgments I wrote in the original edition. When I read the last few lines, I chuckled aloud, amused by the prophetic nature of my words.
“Thank you to anyone reading this book. I hope you enjoy reading the story as much as I did writing it. Let us see where our travels go.”
I am still traveling. Thanks for coming with me.
Good days ahead.
November 29, 2011
Genesis of a Short Story
Ever sit down in the middle of a TV show, watch for ten minutes, and then are forced to get up to go do something? Sometimes you walk away and forget what you just saw by the time you get upstairs. Other times, you think about that snippet you caught and wonder both what happened before you sat down and what happens next.
To me, that second example is a perfect illustration of what a good short story should be: a tasty morsel that leaves you wanting more.
Novels are feature-length films; a short story is that ten-minute snippet.
In many ways, writing a short story easier than a novel. On the other hand, if an author is not careful, writing a short story can be a terrible, sneaky trap. You think you have a great idea and you start typing away. 15,000 words later, you realize your short story is not so short anymore. I am guilty of this myself.
In a short story, a massive, sweeping plot is not necessary. In fact, there better not be one. More often than not, you are writing a single scene or two, maybe three. Your characters do not need to go on a personal journey, solve the centuries-old mystery, or save the world from certain destruction. Provide readers with a quick peek into their lives, not a study on the human condition.
Here is the rub with short stories: those same liberating qualities are what make writing a short story challenging. You have limited space. Your characters need to ‘pop’ quickly to draw the reader in. Often, you need to start your story in the middle of a scene that you might have spent more time setting up were it a part of a novel.
Novels have more leeway to explore story, characters, and setting. You can meander a bit. Short stories need to be written with strict intention from the beginning.
When I write novels, my approach to outlining is as follows. I come up with the major plot points and hold true to them (well…most of the time). I outline the first ten chapters, including the setting and events. Then, I start writing.
More often than not, the bulk changes to the story or a character’s actual personality vs. what I planned become apparent in those first few chapters. Most of what I refer to ‘churn’ happens then: writing, rewriting, cutting, writing again. It is like starting a car on a winter day: it takes a while for the engine to warm up and start purring.
I write until chapter 7 or 8 and then outline a few more chapters, constantly keeping a pad of three or four chapters ahead of where am in the story to ensure that I know where things are going. I have a tendency to wander at times as I write, letting the story take me where it wants to go. Most of the time, I go with it and the final book is better because of it. However, too much of this is a bad thing.
For short stories, I try to be more diligent. I write the outline, stressing the key points and characters and paying particular attention to the beginning and end. If I do not do this, I wander like when I write a novel. Even with an intentional focus on ‘sticking to script,’ things pop up that I did not expect and I still include them.
Yes, I am totally contradicting my own advice. This is 100% a “do as I say, not as I do” moment. Go ahead, smack me.
Deception is the most recent bundle of the Terrene Chronicles and came out over the Thanksgiving weekend. Before I wrote the third story in the bundle, titled Father, I decided to use the story to illustrate a “before and after” experience: share the original outline I used before I wrote the story. I will point out why I do certain things and how the story still took on a life of its own. Think of this as the “director’s commentary” feature on a DVD.
This is the genesis of one of my short stories.
Fair warning: this blog post will be spoiler-rich. If you would like to enjoy the story as it is meant to be enjoyed, buy all of Deception here or go read just this story first. Then come back later and finish this.
Step 1 for me is to have a clear idea of how the story opens. Even more than in a novel, getting the mood correct in a short story at the beginning is important. This is what I started with:
Good news: this held through the writing and editing. I enjoy writing the mood/environment of a scene; what you see, hear, feel, smell, etc. I want the reader to feel like he or she is standing there. In this instance, I wanted you to shiver and go get a blanket.
Next, it is very important for me to have all of the primary characters identified up front. Knowing key physical characteristics, biographical details, etc. makes writing them easier for me. The main characters in my novels develop in a somewhat organic fashion. I do not have that luxury in a short story.
Here is my characters section:
The good news with this section is that four of the five characters stayed as I envisioned them. The fifth, Baron Treswell, morphed a bit as his character took an unexpected twist that I really enjoyed. Here is a little morsel for Progeny readers: I included Baron Treswell in the short story for very good reason. Wait for book two to find out.
This held true, although a short exchange between Everett and the Captain slipped in before this happened. Again, Progeny readers, you might recognize Grandy: he was Everett’s Steward in Progeny.
As I write this post, it has become apparent to me that I did a decent job of sticking to outline this time around. Again, this chunk of my outline all made it into the story. Notice the details to the wolfhounds I included. I wanted the dogs to be as real as possible; it makes what happens to them a little later that much more effective.
Figures. Right after I say, “Hey, I did a good job with sticking to the outline,” things go awry.
This is where the tale took an unexpected turn. Baron Treswell is still somewhat meek in the final story, but an interesting detail about the man emerged as I wrote. I used the opportunity to better illustrate the ‘goodness’ of Gill Redlord and the conflict between father and son. The conversations between Duke Gill, Everett, and Baron Treswell were longer and more involved than I had planned. Still, I like the way things turned out.
The story veered a little here, but not too bad. Mostly, I just rearranged things.
I had the strange howl come first, trying to add a bit of suspense and offering a chance to get things turned in the direction the story needed to go. The ‘chase scene’ also provided a chance to delve into some of Everett’s thoughts.
Most of this held through the writing. All but the way the captain perished. Instead of having it happen ‘off-screen,’ I had the captain’s fate displayed for all to see while still holding back a bit of mystery of what killed him (and the dogs).
You might notice that in some cases, I actually write snippets of dialogue. I do this when the scene is crystal clear in my head while outlining. In the story, Raela actually says both of these lines.
This pretty much is exactly what happened. There is a lot of back and forth between Raela and Everett about why they spare the baron, but the result is the same. Everett is now the duke and has yet another lackey. The three-story tale about his twisted, deceitful rise to the Sovereign’s Chair is complete.
Because I built a framework before I started writing, the story followed its intended path with only a minimal number of detours. Which, for me, this is a good thing.
Someday, perhaps I will share some of my original notes for Progeny (or the sequel). The notes vs. the finished tale are an interesting study in the evolution of a story. Currently, I am outlining book three in the series and cannot help but wonder what changes and surprises are in store for me once I start writing.
To me, that second example is a perfect illustration of what a good short story should be: a tasty morsel that leaves you wanting more.
Novels are feature-length films; a short story is that ten-minute snippet.
In many ways, writing a short story easier than a novel. On the other hand, if an author is not careful, writing a short story can be a terrible, sneaky trap. You think you have a great idea and you start typing away. 15,000 words later, you realize your short story is not so short anymore. I am guilty of this myself.
In a short story, a massive, sweeping plot is not necessary. In fact, there better not be one. More often than not, you are writing a single scene or two, maybe three. Your characters do not need to go on a personal journey, solve the centuries-old mystery, or save the world from certain destruction. Provide readers with a quick peek into their lives, not a study on the human condition.
Here is the rub with short stories: those same liberating qualities are what make writing a short story challenging. You have limited space. Your characters need to ‘pop’ quickly to draw the reader in. Often, you need to start your story in the middle of a scene that you might have spent more time setting up were it a part of a novel.
Novels have more leeway to explore story, characters, and setting. You can meander a bit. Short stories need to be written with strict intention from the beginning.
When I write novels, my approach to outlining is as follows. I come up with the major plot points and hold true to them (well…most of the time). I outline the first ten chapters, including the setting and events. Then, I start writing.
More often than not, the bulk changes to the story or a character’s actual personality vs. what I planned become apparent in those first few chapters. Most of what I refer to ‘churn’ happens then: writing, rewriting, cutting, writing again. It is like starting a car on a winter day: it takes a while for the engine to warm up and start purring.
I write until chapter 7 or 8 and then outline a few more chapters, constantly keeping a pad of three or four chapters ahead of where am in the story to ensure that I know where things are going. I have a tendency to wander at times as I write, letting the story take me where it wants to go. Most of the time, I go with it and the final book is better because of it. However, too much of this is a bad thing.
For short stories, I try to be more diligent. I write the outline, stressing the key points and characters and paying particular attention to the beginning and end. If I do not do this, I wander like when I write a novel. Even with an intentional focus on ‘sticking to script,’ things pop up that I did not expect and I still include them.
Yes, I am totally contradicting my own advice. This is 100% a “do as I say, not as I do” moment. Go ahead, smack me.
Deception is the most recent bundle of the Terrene Chronicles and came out over the Thanksgiving weekend. Before I wrote the third story in the bundle, titled Father, I decided to use the story to illustrate a “before and after” experience: share the original outline I used before I wrote the story. I will point out why I do certain things and how the story still took on a life of its own. Think of this as the “director’s commentary” feature on a DVD.
This is the genesis of one of my short stories.
Fair warning: this blog post will be spoiler-rich. If you would like to enjoy the story as it is meant to be enjoyed, buy all of Deception here or go read just this story first. Then come back later and finish this.
Step 1 for me is to have a clear idea of how the story opens. Even more than in a novel, getting the mood correct in a short story at the beginning is important. This is what I started with:
1. Opens with an early morning along the western shores of Lake Hawthorne
a. Near a small village: Corlevange
b. Cold, frosty, middle of Winter
c. Pre-dawn, Everett waking up in dark tent on day of hunt
Good news: this held through the writing and editing. I enjoy writing the mood/environment of a scene; what you see, hear, feel, smell, etc. I want the reader to feel like he or she is standing there. In this instance, I wanted you to shiver and go get a blanket.
Next, it is very important for me to have all of the primary characters identified up front. Knowing key physical characteristics, biographical details, etc. makes writing them easier for me. The main characters in my novels develop in a somewhat organic fashion. I do not have that luxury in a short story.
Here is my characters section:
2. Characters
a. Everett
i. Now 25 years old
ii. young man, fit and athletic, with close-cropped brown hair
iii. strong face. a wide, square chin, a well-proportioned nose, and dark brown eyes
b. Gill Redlord
i. 55 years old
ii. Quite fit still, looks a lot like Everett
iii. Same strong chin, but he has green eyes.
c. Baron Jared Treswell (the baron of the region)
i. 34 years old
ii. skinny man with immaculately combed black hair
iii. Only been baron for 3 years, his father had passed of a wasting illness
d. Huntmaster Darick Argus
i. Originally from the Foothills to the north
ii. Lured to the Deartfield Barony by Baron Treswell’s father
iii. Has red hair, an odd accent, is in his late forties, long sideburns
iv. Strangely enough, he has one blue eye, one green
e. Captain Remy Lydmon
i. Completely loyal to the duke
ii. Early forties
iii. Brown hair, moustache, blue eyes
iv. Upright and honorable, does not like nor trust Everett
f. Twenty Red Sentinels trail them, but don’t go on hunt
The good news with this section is that four of the five characters stayed as I envisioned them. The fifth, Baron Treswell, morphed a bit as his character took an unexpected twist that I really enjoyed. Here is a little morsel for Progeny readers: I included Baron Treswell in the short story for very good reason. Wait for book two to find out.
3. They wake up early, smoky, frost on the ground
a. Grandy the Steward wishes them well
i. skinny, older man with wispy white hair and wearing the red tunic of the Great Lakes
b. Tells Duke to not waste too much time, there are details he must see to
c. Gill smiles and says, “I need a bit of fun in my life, Grandy.”
This held true, although a short exchange between Everett and the Captain slipped in before this happened. Again, Progeny readers, you might recognize Grandy: he was Everett’s Steward in Progeny.
4. They get their horses ready head east
a. Each of them have a bow and arrow and a long lance.
b. Huntmaster says there are a pack of wolves rumored to roam the hills there
i. Sheep have been disappearing
c. The huntmaster has two hunting hounds with them
i. Two alants, commonly called wolfhounds
1. large, short coated dogs of varying type
2. long, broad, flat head of the alant
3. The alant resembles a man with a long broad head and a square jaw
As I write this post, it has become apparent to me that I did a decent job of sticking to outline this time around. Again, this chunk of my outline all made it into the story. Notice the details to the wolfhounds I included. I wanted the dogs to be as real as possible; it makes what happens to them a little later that much more effective.
5. Baron Treswell rides with Everett
a. The man is a timid and meek man.
b. Everett is glad – either he dies or he gets in line
6. Duke Gill tries to engage Everett in chatter, but the relationship is obviously strained
a. Everett could care less if it improves
b. Gill is frustrated
Figures. Right after I say, “Hey, I did a good job with sticking to the outline,” things go awry.
This is where the tale took an unexpected turn. Baron Treswell is still somewhat meek in the final story, but an interesting detail about the man emerged as I wrote. I used the opportunity to better illustrate the ‘goodness’ of Gill Redlord and the conflict between father and son. The conversations between Duke Gill, Everett, and Baron Treswell were longer and more involved than I had planned. Still, I like the way things turned out.
7. The dogs become agitated, the huntmaster says they have the scent
8. They begin to gallop, following the dogs
9. After a time, a strange howl rip through the woods, the sounds of the two dogs cut off
a. The huntsmaster is worried…
b. Huntmaster, Baron Treswell, Gill, Everett, Captain, enter a clearing
The story veered a little here, but not too bad. Mostly, I just rearranged things.
I had the strange howl come first, trying to add a bit of suspense and offering a chance to get things turned in the direction the story needed to go. The ‘chase scene’ also provided a chance to delve into some of Everett’s thoughts.
10. The dogs are dead, their throats ripped open.
a. The wounds are vicious, larger than any wolf could have done
b. Even Everett is worried, he did not expect this
11. The huntsmaster is upset and gets off his horse
12. The Captain urges the Duke to come with him, back to the soldiers
a. Baron Treswell agrees and wants to flee
b. Gill refuses, if there are some sort of monstrous wolf in the area, they need to take care of it before it kills citizens
c. The captain says, “Fine, let me at least ride back and lead the soldiers here”
and leaves
d. After ducking back into the woods, there’s another loud howl,
i. The captain sounds his horn
ii. The distant screams of the captain are heard
13. The huntmaster says, that is no wolf
Most of this held through the writing. All but the way the captain perished. Instead of having it happen ‘off-screen,’ I had the captain’s fate displayed for all to see while still holding back a bit of mystery of what killed him (and the dogs).
14. From the north, Raela steps into the clearing, wearing a fur lined coat
15. She looks over the four and says, “You could not get him here alone?”
a. Everett says he did his best.
b. He asks what killed the hounds,
i. She smiles. “Friends from the far west.”
c. She creates a port and shoves the huntsman through.
16. Gill stares at his son, angry and stunned
You might notice that in some cases, I actually write snippets of dialogue. I do this when the scene is crystal clear in my head while outlining. In the story, Raela actually says both of these lines.
17. Raela lifts the man from his saddle using air, and slams his body into the ground
a. Gill Redlord dies
18. Baron Treswell snivels for his life
a. Everett agrees having a Baron utterly loyal would only be good
b. He offers the man the prime minister position on the First Council in Freehaven if he swears the Duke fell from his horse and the huntsman ran off, ashamed of his role in the Duke’s death…
19. Everett and Treswell leave
a. Raela leaves, saying “Congratulations, Duke Everett.”
This pretty much is exactly what happened. There is a lot of back and forth between Raela and Everett about why they spare the baron, but the result is the same. Everett is now the duke and has yet another lackey. The three-story tale about his twisted, deceitful rise to the Sovereign’s Chair is complete.
Because I built a framework before I started writing, the story followed its intended path with only a minimal number of detours. Which, for me, this is a good thing.
Someday, perhaps I will share some of my original notes for Progeny (or the sequel). The notes vs. the finished tale are an interesting study in the evolution of a story. Currently, I am outlining book three in the series and cannot help but wonder what changes and surprises are in store for me once I start writing.
November 16, 2011
Adventures of an Indie: Year One in Review
Winter, 2010.
This December 1st will mark an anniversary for me.
On that day, one year ago, I published the hardcopy (ironically, a paperback) edition my debut novel, Progeny (The Children of the White Lions, #1).
Lines wrapped around blocks outside bookstores across the country as hundreds of thousands of anxious, excited fans waited to purchase the hard copy edition. I was forced to wade through the tsunami of interview requests I received. I single-handedly brought down Twitter that day with the hashtag #awesomebook. You remember that, right? There was a story on CNN about it.
Okay, so none of that happened. A year ago, I did not even have a Twitter account. Which—ahem—is @AuthorRTKaelin, by the way.
In truth, I think I sold maybe five or six copies on day one. For the month of December, I might have sold a total of twenty. The only sales list I topped was the “Kaelin Extended Family Holiday Purchases.”
Paradoxically, it was both a terribly exciting and mind-numbingly dull period.
“How many books did I sell so far? 12? Okay…”
[Refresh the page]
“Still 12?”
[Refresh the page]
“Huh…12. That’s odd…”
That is what being an independent author looks like at the beginning; something I did not know at the time. I suppose I was naïve—heck, I was totally naïve—thinking that somehow (magic!) the book would gain traction on its own. People would find it, right? I wrote a great story, so the world should just know it’s there? By osmosis or something.
Guess what? Not so much.
After that first month, I felt adrift, wondering what I should do. I came to the realization that it was my responsibility to do something. I am indie. That means I am author, editor, marketing department, publicist, intern, cover artist, janitor, etc. For something to happen with Progeny, I needed to market the book actively. Not knowing where to begin, I simply tried everything I could think of.
I found some websites that catered to readers, LibraryThing.com and GoodReads.com, and did what I could to set up a presence there. I did an online interview hosted by members of the community at LibraryThing. I created my own website. Then, I sat back and waited.
“Phew! That was a lot of work… Come on, success!”
Surely, that was enough, right? Again, not so much.
I reached out to local high schools, offering to speak about the writing process. I gave talks to a half-dozen schools and really enjoyed the experience, but again, that was not necessarily going to get the word out as I wanted.
What else could I do?
“Reviews! Books have reviews! I wrote a book! Maybe I should get my book some of those…”
This is when I graduated from seasoned neophyte to amateur novice. You see, I sent out copies to a number of review locations…like the New York Times and the other giants of the industry. They surely love getting books from debut indie authors that no one has ever heard of, right?
Go ahead. Laugh at my ignorance. I am going to grab a glass of water while you compose yourself.
Done? Good. Let us continue...
Fortunately, a flash of inspiration drove me to Google where I typed “Book Review Sites” and stumbled across dozens of bloggers who reviewed books. After taking the time to find ones that reviewed epic fantasy, I contacted a few (not enough, at first) and sent books to those sites interested. Then I waited again.
“Let’s goooooo success... I’m waiting…”
As it turns out, people who write for book review blogs have many, many, many books to read. Getting around to Progeny took time.
While I waited, I decided to look into this whole ‘ebook’ thing. To this point, Progeny was only available in paperback, and at $25.99 per copy, I was coming to the conclusion that the price was cost prohibitive for many readers. Unfortunately, I write EPIC epic fantasy. Progeny is 672, 6.75'' x 9.25'' pages. I priced the book where I did simply because my printing costs were so high. Royalties per copy in extended distribution were barely over $1.
Since ebooks do not have printing costs (cause there is no paper, you see… ;)), I could price the book more appropriately to the market. That might help me get some new readers, right?
Eureka.
In the first month I released Progeny on the Kindle, my ebook sales outpaced my paperback sales by an 8:1 margin. Number of copies sold inexplicably continues to increase every month. Word of mouth seems to have taken over.
Spring, 2011
Some of the first reviews started trickling in, and to my happy surprise, they were effusive in their praise. Some of the authors I was being compared against are the giants of the genre. It was quite humbling and continues to be every time I see another one come out.
“So, what next? What else can I do?”
I live in Columbus, OH. Every summer, there’s a large gaming convention here called Origins—a four-day affair for people who love playing all sorts of games. I thought it might be a good opportunity for me to get a table and maybe try to sell some copies of Progeny. I contacted the convention to inquire about the cost of a table and was informed they had an author’s program as a part of the convention. I was directed to contact the woman responsible for the program, but I had to hurry; the deadline was a day or two away.
Fortune smiled on me and I met Jean Rabe. She has been writing for mumble-mumble years and has more books and stories published than I can count. She is a wonderful, helpful, and kind woman who was willing to offer me a spot in The Library and place me on a few panels with other, much-more established authors to discuss writing.
Summer, 2011
The Origins experience was phenomenal.
Intimidated by the other authors at first (Timothy Zahn and Michael Stackpole were there, after all), I was hesitant to say much. However, as it turns out, authors are people and most of them are very, very nice (Michael Stackpole in particular). The panels were a blast. An opportunity to talk about something about which I am passionate? Yes, please. I sold a sizable chunk of books (really, why did I think I should charge more for a signed copy? What a rookie…) and made some great contacts.
Realizing the value of conventions, I searched for others. GenCon—four times the size of Origins—in Indianapolis was within driving distance, but their “Authors’ Avenue” was sold out. Again, Jean Rabe came to my rescue and slipped me in on some panels when one of the other authors had to cancel. No table to sell, but—again—the experience of meeting other authors and learning from them was invaluable.
Other conventions, especially ones more writing-centric, were less enthusiastic to welcome an indie author. The publishing world is changing, and some in the old guard have certain opinions set in stone about us. No matter. One more obstacle which I will overcome.
Time passed.
I contacted more blogs and websites and got another round of reviews floating around the web. I did some guest posts at blogs about writing, the advent of ebooks, the trials of self-publishing…pretty much whatever I could to get my name out there.
Oh, and I continued to write.
Here is the funny thing about writing an epic fantasy series: the story is only getting warmed up in the first book. The Children of the White Lion series is no different. From the moment that I said “I’m done” with Progeny (the first time—more on that later), I knew exactly how book two would start. So, I had started it back in December. By summer, I was three-quarters of the way through the manuscript.
Surprisingly enough, I had come to develop a sort of following by that point. Readers were contacting me via a number of social media outlets, asking about when book two was going to come out. As my long-term plan was to get Progeny picked up by a traditional publisher, I did not want to release the sequel quite yet.
My readers' enthusiasm triggered another idea on how to promote Progeny. It was an exciting thought, so I put aside book two and spent my limited free time on this new endeavor.
The Terrene Chronicles were born.
Fall, 2011
I intended for The Terrene Chronicles to be a series of stand-alone short stories that were precursors to the events of Progeny. I thought if I gave them away free via my website, I would draw in readers to the novel itself. To this day, I do not really know if that worked or not. It is quite hard to track something like that.
Regardless, I wrote them. As of this moment, eleven have been released. The first three were bundled together as Merchant. The second three were Family. And the third three go together as Rivals. The last four (once I release #12) will be bundled as Deception. If I count the total words in the ‘short’ stories, there are over 200,000, two-thirds the length of Progeny itself (and as it so happens, two-thirds of the now-finished book two).
As I said, I started writing them with the intention they would be a way for me to further market Progeny. What it turned into was a massive writing exercise that allowed me to refine my skill as an author. As it turns out, writing a lone book is insufficient to becoming a prolific, top-notch author. You see, it takes work. Who would have thought?
Realizing my earlier inadequacies, I went back and re-edited Progeny. Wow. If you would like to read about that exercise, you can do so here. Short version: it needed work.
The good news is the updated edition is what you now get on the Kindle an Nook.
Now.
That brings us to today. Where is that, exactly?
To date, I have sold close to 2500 copies of Progeny, with 85% of those sales as ebooks. The novel has reached #6 on Amazon’s Top Rated Epic Fantasy for Kindle books and #15 overall for the Fantasy genre.
A year ago, I was a no-name fantasy author releasing his first book. Now, I have a loyal following of readers who have been anxiously prodding me, wondering when the sequel will be ready. I have a few irons in the fire regarding the next phase of my writing career, but looking back on this adventure makes me realize just how far I have come.
I made dozens of mistakes, simply because I did not know any better.
I learned what works and what does not by trial and error.
I met some fantastic people in the process, online and off.
I have been happy, frustrated, upset, elated, excited, dejected...you name an emotion, and I probably experienced it.
All of it has been a lot of work but I would not change anything about the past year.
And I cannot wait to see what the next year brings.
This December 1st will mark an anniversary for me.
On that day, one year ago, I published the hardcopy (ironically, a paperback) edition my debut novel, Progeny (The Children of the White Lions, #1).
Lines wrapped around blocks outside bookstores across the country as hundreds of thousands of anxious, excited fans waited to purchase the hard copy edition. I was forced to wade through the tsunami of interview requests I received. I single-handedly brought down Twitter that day with the hashtag #awesomebook. You remember that, right? There was a story on CNN about it.
Okay, so none of that happened. A year ago, I did not even have a Twitter account. Which—ahem—is @AuthorRTKaelin, by the way.
In truth, I think I sold maybe five or six copies on day one. For the month of December, I might have sold a total of twenty. The only sales list I topped was the “Kaelin Extended Family Holiday Purchases.”
Paradoxically, it was both a terribly exciting and mind-numbingly dull period.
“How many books did I sell so far? 12? Okay…”
[Refresh the page]
“Still 12?”
[Refresh the page]
“Huh…12. That’s odd…”
That is what being an independent author looks like at the beginning; something I did not know at the time. I suppose I was naïve—heck, I was totally naïve—thinking that somehow (magic!) the book would gain traction on its own. People would find it, right? I wrote a great story, so the world should just know it’s there? By osmosis or something.
Guess what? Not so much.
After that first month, I felt adrift, wondering what I should do. I came to the realization that it was my responsibility to do something. I am indie. That means I am author, editor, marketing department, publicist, intern, cover artist, janitor, etc. For something to happen with Progeny, I needed to market the book actively. Not knowing where to begin, I simply tried everything I could think of.
I found some websites that catered to readers, LibraryThing.com and GoodReads.com, and did what I could to set up a presence there. I did an online interview hosted by members of the community at LibraryThing. I created my own website. Then, I sat back and waited.
“Phew! That was a lot of work… Come on, success!”
Surely, that was enough, right? Again, not so much.
I reached out to local high schools, offering to speak about the writing process. I gave talks to a half-dozen schools and really enjoyed the experience, but again, that was not necessarily going to get the word out as I wanted.
What else could I do?
“Reviews! Books have reviews! I wrote a book! Maybe I should get my book some of those…”
This is when I graduated from seasoned neophyte to amateur novice. You see, I sent out copies to a number of review locations…like the New York Times and the other giants of the industry. They surely love getting books from debut indie authors that no one has ever heard of, right?
Go ahead. Laugh at my ignorance. I am going to grab a glass of water while you compose yourself.
Done? Good. Let us continue...
Fortunately, a flash of inspiration drove me to Google where I typed “Book Review Sites” and stumbled across dozens of bloggers who reviewed books. After taking the time to find ones that reviewed epic fantasy, I contacted a few (not enough, at first) and sent books to those sites interested. Then I waited again.
“Let’s goooooo success... I’m waiting…”
As it turns out, people who write for book review blogs have many, many, many books to read. Getting around to Progeny took time.
While I waited, I decided to look into this whole ‘ebook’ thing. To this point, Progeny was only available in paperback, and at $25.99 per copy, I was coming to the conclusion that the price was cost prohibitive for many readers. Unfortunately, I write EPIC epic fantasy. Progeny is 672, 6.75'' x 9.25'' pages. I priced the book where I did simply because my printing costs were so high. Royalties per copy in extended distribution were barely over $1.
Since ebooks do not have printing costs (cause there is no paper, you see… ;)), I could price the book more appropriately to the market. That might help me get some new readers, right?
Eureka.
In the first month I released Progeny on the Kindle, my ebook sales outpaced my paperback sales by an 8:1 margin. Number of copies sold inexplicably continues to increase every month. Word of mouth seems to have taken over.
Spring, 2011
Some of the first reviews started trickling in, and to my happy surprise, they were effusive in their praise. Some of the authors I was being compared against are the giants of the genre. It was quite humbling and continues to be every time I see another one come out.
“So, what next? What else can I do?”
I live in Columbus, OH. Every summer, there’s a large gaming convention here called Origins—a four-day affair for people who love playing all sorts of games. I thought it might be a good opportunity for me to get a table and maybe try to sell some copies of Progeny. I contacted the convention to inquire about the cost of a table and was informed they had an author’s program as a part of the convention. I was directed to contact the woman responsible for the program, but I had to hurry; the deadline was a day or two away.
Fortune smiled on me and I met Jean Rabe. She has been writing for mumble-mumble years and has more books and stories published than I can count. She is a wonderful, helpful, and kind woman who was willing to offer me a spot in The Library and place me on a few panels with other, much-more established authors to discuss writing.
Summer, 2011
The Origins experience was phenomenal.
Intimidated by the other authors at first (Timothy Zahn and Michael Stackpole were there, after all), I was hesitant to say much. However, as it turns out, authors are people and most of them are very, very nice (Michael Stackpole in particular). The panels were a blast. An opportunity to talk about something about which I am passionate? Yes, please. I sold a sizable chunk of books (really, why did I think I should charge more for a signed copy? What a rookie…) and made some great contacts.
Realizing the value of conventions, I searched for others. GenCon—four times the size of Origins—in Indianapolis was within driving distance, but their “Authors’ Avenue” was sold out. Again, Jean Rabe came to my rescue and slipped me in on some panels when one of the other authors had to cancel. No table to sell, but—again—the experience of meeting other authors and learning from them was invaluable.
Other conventions, especially ones more writing-centric, were less enthusiastic to welcome an indie author. The publishing world is changing, and some in the old guard have certain opinions set in stone about us. No matter. One more obstacle which I will overcome.
Time passed.
I contacted more blogs and websites and got another round of reviews floating around the web. I did some guest posts at blogs about writing, the advent of ebooks, the trials of self-publishing…pretty much whatever I could to get my name out there.
Oh, and I continued to write.
Here is the funny thing about writing an epic fantasy series: the story is only getting warmed up in the first book. The Children of the White Lion series is no different. From the moment that I said “I’m done” with Progeny (the first time—more on that later), I knew exactly how book two would start. So, I had started it back in December. By summer, I was three-quarters of the way through the manuscript.
Surprisingly enough, I had come to develop a sort of following by that point. Readers were contacting me via a number of social media outlets, asking about when book two was going to come out. As my long-term plan was to get Progeny picked up by a traditional publisher, I did not want to release the sequel quite yet.
My readers' enthusiasm triggered another idea on how to promote Progeny. It was an exciting thought, so I put aside book two and spent my limited free time on this new endeavor.
The Terrene Chronicles were born.
Fall, 2011
I intended for The Terrene Chronicles to be a series of stand-alone short stories that were precursors to the events of Progeny. I thought if I gave them away free via my website, I would draw in readers to the novel itself. To this day, I do not really know if that worked or not. It is quite hard to track something like that.
Regardless, I wrote them. As of this moment, eleven have been released. The first three were bundled together as Merchant. The second three were Family. And the third three go together as Rivals. The last four (once I release #12) will be bundled as Deception. If I count the total words in the ‘short’ stories, there are over 200,000, two-thirds the length of Progeny itself (and as it so happens, two-thirds of the now-finished book two).
As I said, I started writing them with the intention they would be a way for me to further market Progeny. What it turned into was a massive writing exercise that allowed me to refine my skill as an author. As it turns out, writing a lone book is insufficient to becoming a prolific, top-notch author. You see, it takes work. Who would have thought?
Realizing my earlier inadequacies, I went back and re-edited Progeny. Wow. If you would like to read about that exercise, you can do so here. Short version: it needed work.
The good news is the updated edition is what you now get on the Kindle an Nook.
Now.
That brings us to today. Where is that, exactly?
To date, I have sold close to 2500 copies of Progeny, with 85% of those sales as ebooks. The novel has reached #6 on Amazon’s Top Rated Epic Fantasy for Kindle books and #15 overall for the Fantasy genre.
A year ago, I was a no-name fantasy author releasing his first book. Now, I have a loyal following of readers who have been anxiously prodding me, wondering when the sequel will be ready. I have a few irons in the fire regarding the next phase of my writing career, but looking back on this adventure makes me realize just how far I have come.
I made dozens of mistakes, simply because I did not know any better.
I learned what works and what does not by trial and error.
I met some fantastic people in the process, online and off.
I have been happy, frustrated, upset, elated, excited, dejected...you name an emotion, and I probably experienced it.
All of it has been a lot of work but I would not change anything about the past year.
And I cannot wait to see what the next year brings.
November 9, 2011
An Exercise in Worldbuilding: The Evolution of Knuckles
Superficially, this blog post is about a made-up game. A fictional game played by fictional characters in a fictional world.
I have only a smidgen of not-so-sage wisdom to impart here about writing. And that comes fairly late in this post.
Simply put, if you would like a peek behind the curtain to see what goes on in a fantasy author’s mind when he or she is building a world, read on.
What I hope to illustrate here is how an imaginary game born solely of my mind had a rich impact on the lexicon and function of my world. How something that started by accident grew into something that has provided me with numerous, happy little details that I have continued to sprinkle throughout the landscape of my writing.
Let me explain. First, a little background.
Early on in the writing of Progeny (The Children of the White Lions, #1), I got to a point in the story where a particular character was choosing to attempt to bluff his way through a situation. As he tried to talk his way past a particularly astute soldier, he realized he needed to either come clean, or fully commit to his lie. It’s a situation we have all been in before, yes? Time to own up, or dig in our heels.
I felt the scenario provided me a chance to add some flavor of the world, to bring it alive. I wanted to craft something to convey that feeling, and strove to find the right word to illustrate what the character was struggling with.
I do not know why I typed the word, ‘knuckledown,’ but I did. Perhaps my brain misfired and I used an amalgamation of ‘knuckle under’ and ‘double down.’ Regardless, the term ‘knuckledown’ was born. In the world of Terrene, it means is used to describe when a person is either expressly confident in his or her position or he or she is preparing to lie through their teeth.
But how to illustrate that context? Where did the term ‘knuckledown’ come from in the setting of the world?
When I answered that last question, the game of ‘knuckles’ was born.
Here is an excerpt from Chapter 7: Roads in Progeny where the game is briefly addressed:
I kicked around the basic idea for the game a few times, and the above was the end result. It ties the seasons of the world into the game, has elements similar to the familiar game of poker which helps the reader relate, but is different and unique enough to add flavor to the world.
Ultimately, the phrase ‘knuckledown’ and the game of knuckles proved very useful going forward. I found myself using both as I finished Progeny, as well as book two in the series; there are multiple references to main and ancillary characters playing the game. As I wrote book two, I began to get the itch to investigate the details of what I had created. As it so happened, my series of short stories provided the perfect opportunity to do so.
The first three bundles (totaling nine short stories) of the Terrene Chronicles came out over the summer. I chose to take a break from them to finish writing and editing book two. A few weeks ago, I was ready to start writing the stories again. Each bundle follows an over-arching plot, and I knew exactly who and what the next three stories were going to explore.
I had my rough outline for what was going to happen in #10, #11, and #12. It was clear to me what #10 and #12 were going to be about, where they were going to take place, etc. And while I knew the events necessary for #11, the setting was not something on which I spent much thought. I figured it would come to me.
Terrene Chronicles #10: Companions (out last week) looks in on Everett, the Duke of the Great Lakes Duchy we see in Progeny, a full decade before he was the duke. Readers get a chance to see the man—well, boy—in action, years in the 'past.' FYI—He really is a creep.
About halfway through writing #10, I had a revelation. The next in the series, #11 (NOW OUT, here), would be a perfect opportunity to investigate knuckles. So, I did. I simply shaped the events I needed to happen in the story around the game. As a result, I got the chance to ‘play’ a hand of knuckles through my characters.
I love writing. I enjoy telling stories. But this story ended up being even more fun to write than most.
Successful worldbuilding in any fantasy or sci-fi book requires a delicate balancing act by the author. You need to provide the reader with enough detail to give them the impression that a massive, sprawling world is out there, just waiting for them if they were to step over the horizon. However, you cannot drown them in minutia.
You might have pages and pages of details in your notes of which you are terribly proud. Your natural inclination is to include every single one in your writing. But what happens is that you bog down the story, and in any book, story is king.
I am totally guilty of this error. A few sections in the original edition of Progeny read like a history book. Guess why the revised edition is close to 9000 words shorter?
You should not include every detail you come up with, but you absolutely should keep them in your back pocket, ready to be pulled out at a moment's notice. Sprinkle them in appropriately, giving a richness to your tale. I like adding a dash of red pepper flakes to most pasta dishes—I enjoy a little heat. However, if I dumped three tablespoons of the stuff into my spaghetti, I would end up with an inedible mess. Same thing applies to details with writing.
So, while I never come right out in Progeny or in Terrene Chronicles #11: Knuckles and say, “Here are the exact rules to how you play the game,” I nonetheless decided that I would come up with the exact rules.
“Why would I do that?” you might ask.
My answer is as follows: “Uh…I dunno. It seemed like it would be fun.”
So, without a truly good reason why I did so, I present the official rules to Knuckles, a placard game played extensively throughout the Oaken Duchies in the world of Terrene. Early next week, #11: Knuckles will be available—free!—at my website: http://www.RTKaelin.com
11/15/11 Update: Knuckles is now available.
I have only a smidgen of not-so-sage wisdom to impart here about writing. And that comes fairly late in this post.
Simply put, if you would like a peek behind the curtain to see what goes on in a fantasy author’s mind when he or she is building a world, read on.
What I hope to illustrate here is how an imaginary game born solely of my mind had a rich impact on the lexicon and function of my world. How something that started by accident grew into something that has provided me with numerous, happy little details that I have continued to sprinkle throughout the landscape of my writing.
Let me explain. First, a little background.
Early on in the writing of Progeny (The Children of the White Lions, #1), I got to a point in the story where a particular character was choosing to attempt to bluff his way through a situation. As he tried to talk his way past a particularly astute soldier, he realized he needed to either come clean, or fully commit to his lie. It’s a situation we have all been in before, yes? Time to own up, or dig in our heels.
I felt the scenario provided me a chance to add some flavor of the world, to bring it alive. I wanted to craft something to convey that feeling, and strove to find the right word to illustrate what the character was struggling with.
I do not know why I typed the word, ‘knuckledown,’ but I did. Perhaps my brain misfired and I used an amalgamation of ‘knuckle under’ and ‘double down.’ Regardless, the term ‘knuckledown’ was born. In the world of Terrene, it means is used to describe when a person is either expressly confident in his or her position or he or she is preparing to lie through their teeth.
But how to illustrate that context? Where did the term ‘knuckledown’ come from in the setting of the world?
When I answered that last question, the game of ‘knuckles’ was born.
Here is an excerpt from Chapter 7: Roads in Progeny where the game is briefly addressed:
“Knuckles was a popular game in much of the Oaken Duchies that involved a deck of small placards with painted numbers and symbols on them. The numbers ranged from one to eleven and there were six sets of symbols: blue crescents, red swords, yellow suns, green fish, gold crowns, and black crosses. The deck of cards could be used for a variety of games, but knuckles was the most popular one by far.
To play knuckles, you were dealt three cards and must place a bet on the opening ‘Spring’ hand. Three rounds followed, ‘Summer’, ‘Harvest’, and ‘Winter’. In the first round, players were allowed to exchange up to two cards and get an additional one, totaling four cards. Everyone would place bets again with each player needing to match the highest bet in order to stay in the game. Rounds two and three were the same; exchange up to two, and get one additional card. By the end of the third round, every player still playing would have six cards in their hand.
At any point, when a player felt his current hand would beat any other player’s future hand he could ‘knuckledown.’ He had to match half the current value of the commons, which was the total the players had already contributed. The player that knuckledowned could draw no more cards for the rest of the hand.
Knuckling down was a risky move that could either pay big or make a man poor quickly. Players only did it when they had an incredibly strong hand or were lying through their teeth.”
I kicked around the basic idea for the game a few times, and the above was the end result. It ties the seasons of the world into the game, has elements similar to the familiar game of poker which helps the reader relate, but is different and unique enough to add flavor to the world.
Ultimately, the phrase ‘knuckledown’ and the game of knuckles proved very useful going forward. I found myself using both as I finished Progeny, as well as book two in the series; there are multiple references to main and ancillary characters playing the game. As I wrote book two, I began to get the itch to investigate the details of what I had created. As it so happened, my series of short stories provided the perfect opportunity to do so.
The first three bundles (totaling nine short stories) of the Terrene Chronicles came out over the summer. I chose to take a break from them to finish writing and editing book two. A few weeks ago, I was ready to start writing the stories again. Each bundle follows an over-arching plot, and I knew exactly who and what the next three stories were going to explore.
I had my rough outline for what was going to happen in #10, #11, and #12. It was clear to me what #10 and #12 were going to be about, where they were going to take place, etc. And while I knew the events necessary for #11, the setting was not something on which I spent much thought. I figured it would come to me.
Terrene Chronicles #10: Companions (out last week) looks in on Everett, the Duke of the Great Lakes Duchy we see in Progeny, a full decade before he was the duke. Readers get a chance to see the man—well, boy—in action, years in the 'past.' FYI—He really is a creep.
About halfway through writing #10, I had a revelation. The next in the series, #11 (NOW OUT, here), would be a perfect opportunity to investigate knuckles. So, I did. I simply shaped the events I needed to happen in the story around the game. As a result, I got the chance to ‘play’ a hand of knuckles through my characters.
I love writing. I enjoy telling stories. But this story ended up being even more fun to write than most.
Successful worldbuilding in any fantasy or sci-fi book requires a delicate balancing act by the author. You need to provide the reader with enough detail to give them the impression that a massive, sprawling world is out there, just waiting for them if they were to step over the horizon. However, you cannot drown them in minutia.
You might have pages and pages of details in your notes of which you are terribly proud. Your natural inclination is to include every single one in your writing. But what happens is that you bog down the story, and in any book, story is king.
I am totally guilty of this error. A few sections in the original edition of Progeny read like a history book. Guess why the revised edition is close to 9000 words shorter?
You should not include every detail you come up with, but you absolutely should keep them in your back pocket, ready to be pulled out at a moment's notice. Sprinkle them in appropriately, giving a richness to your tale. I like adding a dash of red pepper flakes to most pasta dishes—I enjoy a little heat. However, if I dumped three tablespoons of the stuff into my spaghetti, I would end up with an inedible mess. Same thing applies to details with writing.
So, while I never come right out in Progeny or in Terrene Chronicles #11: Knuckles and say, “Here are the exact rules to how you play the game,” I nonetheless decided that I would come up with the exact rules.
“Why would I do that?” you might ask.
My answer is as follows: “Uh…I dunno. It seemed like it would be fun.”
So, without a truly good reason why I did so, I present the official rules to Knuckles, a placard game played extensively throughout the Oaken Duchies in the world of Terrene. Early next week, #11: Knuckles will be available—free!—at my website: http://www.RTKaelin.com
11/15/11 Update: Knuckles is now available.
Description:
Knuckles is played with a deck made up as follows: Cards numbered 1-11, painted with the symbols of blue crescents, red swords, yellow suns, green fish, gold crowns, and black crosses. It consists of four rounds, or ‘seasons,’ of play: ‘Spring,’ ‘Summer,’ ‘Harvest,’ and ‘Winter.’ Betting occurs between each season.
Rules:
1. Before the Spring hand is dealt, all players must ‘Coin in.’ Based on the rules set by the table, this can be any agreed upon amount. The coin goes into the ‘Commons.’
2. Each player gets three placards: the Spring hand.
3. An opening round of bets is made on the Spring hand, starting with the player on the dealer’s left. Subsequent players can meet, or raise the amount. Any player who wishes to remain in the game, must meet the maximum bet.
a. A player may ‘defer’ to the next player in line if they do not wish to bet but ultimately they must meet the high bet to remain in the game.
b. A player may ‘bow out’ of a hand at any time and stop playing.
4. The dealer announces ‘Summer’ and each player—starting with the player to the dealer’s left—may exchange up to two of his three cards for two new ones from the dealer’s deck. In addition, each player gets one more additional ‘Summer’ placard. All players still in the game should have four cards in their hand at the end of the exchange.
5. Another round of betting occurs.
6. Following the rules of the ‘Summer’ hand, ‘Harvest’ and ‘Winter’ follow with a round of betting in between each. Exchange up to two cards each season’s hand and get an additional placard for that season.
7. By the end of the exchange in the ‘Winter’ hand, each player still in the game should have six cards.
8. The player with the best hand wins the entirety of the ‘Commons.’
9. At any point after the ‘Spring’ hand, a player may opt to ‘Knuckledown.’ This requires the player to place into the ‘Commons’ an amount equal to half of the current amount. For the remainder of the hand, the player could not exchange cards, nor gain additional cards. Their current three, four, or five cards must beat the other player’s full six-placard hands.
Hand rankings:
1. High placard
2. One pair
3. Two Pair
4. Three of a kind
5. Three pair
6. Two Clovers (three of one number, three of another)
7. Five-Placard Straight (five cards in sequential order, any suit)
8. Halfling Sweep (five of the same symbol)
9. Four of a kind (four of the same number)
10. Six-Placard Straight (six cards in sequential order, any suit)
11. Hillman Sweep (six of the same symbol)
12. Stocked Wagon (four of one number, two of another)
13. Five of a kind (five of the same number)
14. Six Sovereigns (all six of the same number)
15. Straight Sweep (six of the same symbol, sequential in order)
November 2, 2011
I was a bad writer. I'm better now.
This journey of mine has been eye-opening.
When I finished Progeny (The Children of the White Lions, #1), I thought to myself, "Hey, this is a good story.” And it was. Still is.
Then I thought to myself, “Hey, I can write pretty well.” Boy…was I mistaken.
Good storyteller does not good equal author. Far from it.
It took me close to a year to write the book. When I started, I was a relative novice. I had written some short stories, but nothing as large and as ambitious as Progeny. Throughout the process of writing and editing, I reached the misguided conclusion that my skills as a writer had caught up to my ability as a storyteller. After only a single 300k word novel.
Good gracious, was I wrong. And ignorantly arrogant.
Granted, I hired a copy editor to parse my words before publishing, but she could only do so much with what I provided her. She found the glaring grammatical errors. Poor word choice. Etc.
But flow? Tone? Clarity? That was not her responsibility and she did not touch it at all. Nor should she have.
When she was done, I believed I had a good product. Bulletproof. As good as any out there.
Eek.
Should anyone ever invent a time machine, I would like to borrow it and hop back to November 2010, sit myself down, and say, “Hey…uh…slow down there, speedy. Read it again. Write more. Edit more.”
Since I do not expect the advent of time travel any time soon, I am relegated to dealing with the past as is.
After Progeny was released, I leapt straight into writing the sequel—I just knew how the second book opened. As with anything one does, the more I wrote, the better I got. By the time the first pass at the manuscript was done (another 280k+ words), I had ironed out many wrinkles in my style. And my tone. And pretty much everything that comes along with writing a clear, crisp, and concise tale.
Then I wrote nine short stories, The Terrene Chronicles (Merchant, Family, Rivals), set as prequel stories for Progeny. I meant for them to be a marketing ploy, but more than anything, they turned out to be a writing exercise. After another 150k words (a few were more ‘novella’ than ‘short story’), I had pounded out even more impurities.
Then, I went back and did an editing pass on the sequel, and realized how much work I still needed. Once I was done with that, I thought to myself, “I really ought to take a look at Progeny…”
Oh. My. Gods*.
How that edition of the book has almost 30 five-star reviews at Amazon and reached #6 on their top rated epic fantasy list is astounding.
The first third is horrendous in style, tone, and grammar. The second third is only slightly better. The last third is passable, but by no means, is it any good. I suppose the story I told trumped my amateurish writing.
To the handful of reviews critical of the opening section of the book, ripping the grammar and clarity of the book, may I say, “Yup. You’re right.”
To the rest of you who have lauded the tale with syrupy-sweet praise, may I say, “Thank the Gods* for you.” Without your support, I would never have persevered.
So, I set to editing Progeny again. I cut large swaths, rewrote others, and added a few small sections to clarify things. In the end, I cut 8000+ words while still adding a new 1k word Prologue. I enlisted a trio of fans to review my edits to catch my bane—dropped words—and now I have a product of which I am proud. Very proud.
Ultimately, I am writing this to say this to the epic fantasy reading community: I am sorry.
If you picked it up and started to read it…good gracious, I am sorry. Especially for the first couple of chapters. If you stuck with those, you were treated to a wonderful tale I hope you enjoyed.
If you never have read Progeny, well, now I am proud to say, please do. The Kindle edition is clean, crisp, and full of new little tidbits.
Oh, and a new Prologue. And a world map. But those are just details.
The other ebook versions (nook, mobi via Smashwords, iBooks, etc.) will be updated as soon as the new copy snakes its way through the respective systems.
So, come join us all on what proves to be a great adventure (the story of book 2 in the series is even better than Progeny).
Good days ahead, all. Happy reading.
*FYI Thank the Gods is a book reference. I am not a polytheistic sort of fellow in real life.
When I finished Progeny (The Children of the White Lions, #1), I thought to myself, "Hey, this is a good story.” And it was. Still is.
Then I thought to myself, “Hey, I can write pretty well.” Boy…was I mistaken.
Good storyteller does not good equal author. Far from it.
It took me close to a year to write the book. When I started, I was a relative novice. I had written some short stories, but nothing as large and as ambitious as Progeny. Throughout the process of writing and editing, I reached the misguided conclusion that my skills as a writer had caught up to my ability as a storyteller. After only a single 300k word novel.
Good gracious, was I wrong. And ignorantly arrogant.
Granted, I hired a copy editor to parse my words before publishing, but she could only do so much with what I provided her. She found the glaring grammatical errors. Poor word choice. Etc.
But flow? Tone? Clarity? That was not her responsibility and she did not touch it at all. Nor should she have.
When she was done, I believed I had a good product. Bulletproof. As good as any out there.
Eek.
Should anyone ever invent a time machine, I would like to borrow it and hop back to November 2010, sit myself down, and say, “Hey…uh…slow down there, speedy. Read it again. Write more. Edit more.”
Since I do not expect the advent of time travel any time soon, I am relegated to dealing with the past as is.
After Progeny was released, I leapt straight into writing the sequel—I just knew how the second book opened. As with anything one does, the more I wrote, the better I got. By the time the first pass at the manuscript was done (another 280k+ words), I had ironed out many wrinkles in my style. And my tone. And pretty much everything that comes along with writing a clear, crisp, and concise tale.
Then I wrote nine short stories, The Terrene Chronicles (Merchant, Family, Rivals), set as prequel stories for Progeny. I meant for them to be a marketing ploy, but more than anything, they turned out to be a writing exercise. After another 150k words (a few were more ‘novella’ than ‘short story’), I had pounded out even more impurities.
Then, I went back and did an editing pass on the sequel, and realized how much work I still needed. Once I was done with that, I thought to myself, “I really ought to take a look at Progeny…”
Oh. My. Gods*.
How that edition of the book has almost 30 five-star reviews at Amazon and reached #6 on their top rated epic fantasy list is astounding.
The first third is horrendous in style, tone, and grammar. The second third is only slightly better. The last third is passable, but by no means, is it any good. I suppose the story I told trumped my amateurish writing.
To the handful of reviews critical of the opening section of the book, ripping the grammar and clarity of the book, may I say, “Yup. You’re right.”
To the rest of you who have lauded the tale with syrupy-sweet praise, may I say, “Thank the Gods* for you.” Without your support, I would never have persevered.
So, I set to editing Progeny again. I cut large swaths, rewrote others, and added a few small sections to clarify things. In the end, I cut 8000+ words while still adding a new 1k word Prologue. I enlisted a trio of fans to review my edits to catch my bane—dropped words—and now I have a product of which I am proud. Very proud.
Ultimately, I am writing this to say this to the epic fantasy reading community: I am sorry.
If you picked it up and started to read it…good gracious, I am sorry. Especially for the first couple of chapters. If you stuck with those, you were treated to a wonderful tale I hope you enjoyed.
If you never have read Progeny, well, now I am proud to say, please do. The Kindle edition is clean, crisp, and full of new little tidbits.
Oh, and a new Prologue. And a world map. But those are just details.
The other ebook versions (nook, mobi via Smashwords, iBooks, etc.) will be updated as soon as the new copy snakes its way through the respective systems.
So, come join us all on what proves to be a great adventure (the story of book 2 in the series is even better than Progeny).
Good days ahead, all. Happy reading.
*FYI Thank the Gods is a book reference. I am not a polytheistic sort of fellow in real life.
July 28, 2011
My Schedule at Gen Con
My Schedule
Thurs: 10 AM - Selling Short Fiction
Thurs: 4 PM - @Author's Avenue
Fri: Noon - Fictional Food
Fri: 1 PM - Love Between the Sheets
Fri: 2 PM - Resourceful Writers
Fri: 3 PM - @Author's Avenue
Sat: 10 AM - Worldbuilding-- Gods and Magic
Sat: 11 AM - Worldbuilding--Men, Monsters, and the Creatures Between
Sat: Noon - What's in Word?
Sat: 2-4 - @Author's Avenue
Selling Short Fiction: Selling short fiction can be a long road, especially in a marketplace with dwindling print anthologies and falling magazine sales. But short fiction is still an art worth pursuing. Our panelists discuss markets, techniques, and how penning short stories can improve your chances of publishing novels.
Fictional Food: Real spacemen don’t eat grilled cheese! Little details help make your fiction real and add depth to your characters. Fictional food can also reveal important information about the climate and culture you are crafting. Learn how to make up food and diets that are exotic but still believable.
Love Between the Sheets (of paper): Chaste or steamy, romance can help drive your story, enrich your plot, and make your characters more complex. But writing an effective romance is a challenge. And just how far should you . . . or your characters . . . go?
Resourceful Writers: Writing is largely a solitary endeavor, but there’s a world of resources, organizations, and web sites to keep you company. Our panelists discuss some of their favorite resources . . . places they turn to when looking for literary guidance.
Worldbuilding, Gods, and Magic: Crafting religions can be divine! Fabricating magic systems can be downright enchanting! It takes a significant amount of work and thought to put together the arcane aspects of a fantasy setting. Our veteran worldbuilders guide you through it.
Worldbuilding—Men, Monsters, and the Creatures Between: Men, elves, and the like cannot live in isolation, and monsters don’t materialize out of nowhere. People and creatures need to fit into the world’s ecology and have a life cycle that makes sense, otherwise your readers will see your world as unrealistic and not worth reading about. Find out what makes creatures and races believable.
What’s in a Word: The authors of The Hobbit, various Star Trek novels, and A Wizard of Earthsea created languages to make their worlds come alive. It seems easy enough . . . but how do you keep your characters from having names and discussions that look like someone slapped the keyboard? Panelists will discuss methods that authors and game designers use for creating “authentic” fictional languages and reveal their own techniques.
Published in December of 2010, Progeny has reached the top 10 in Top Rated Epic Fantasy on Amazon.com.
Visit http://www.rtkaelin.com for more information on me and my work.
Best/easiest place to get book (Print or Kindle) is at Amazon where there are 23/26 five-star reviews.
It is however available for the Nook and other eReaders via Smashwords or iTunes.
Thurs: 10 AM - Selling Short Fiction
Thurs: 4 PM - @Author's Avenue
Fri: Noon - Fictional Food
Fri: 1 PM - Love Between the Sheets
Fri: 2 PM - Resourceful Writers
Fri: 3 PM - @Author's Avenue
Sat: 10 AM - Worldbuilding-- Gods and Magic
Sat: 11 AM - Worldbuilding--Men, Monsters, and the Creatures Between
Sat: Noon - What's in Word?
Sat: 2-4 - @Author's Avenue
Selling Short Fiction: Selling short fiction can be a long road, especially in a marketplace with dwindling print anthologies and falling magazine sales. But short fiction is still an art worth pursuing. Our panelists discuss markets, techniques, and how penning short stories can improve your chances of publishing novels.
Fictional Food: Real spacemen don’t eat grilled cheese! Little details help make your fiction real and add depth to your characters. Fictional food can also reveal important information about the climate and culture you are crafting. Learn how to make up food and diets that are exotic but still believable.
Love Between the Sheets (of paper): Chaste or steamy, romance can help drive your story, enrich your plot, and make your characters more complex. But writing an effective romance is a challenge. And just how far should you . . . or your characters . . . go?
Resourceful Writers: Writing is largely a solitary endeavor, but there’s a world of resources, organizations, and web sites to keep you company. Our panelists discuss some of their favorite resources . . . places they turn to when looking for literary guidance.
Worldbuilding, Gods, and Magic: Crafting religions can be divine! Fabricating magic systems can be downright enchanting! It takes a significant amount of work and thought to put together the arcane aspects of a fantasy setting. Our veteran worldbuilders guide you through it.
Worldbuilding—Men, Monsters, and the Creatures Between: Men, elves, and the like cannot live in isolation, and monsters don’t materialize out of nowhere. People and creatures need to fit into the world’s ecology and have a life cycle that makes sense, otherwise your readers will see your world as unrealistic and not worth reading about. Find out what makes creatures and races believable.
What’s in a Word: The authors of The Hobbit, various Star Trek novels, and A Wizard of Earthsea created languages to make their worlds come alive. It seems easy enough . . . but how do you keep your characters from having names and discussions that look like someone slapped the keyboard? Panelists will discuss methods that authors and game designers use for creating “authentic” fictional languages and reveal their own techniques.
Published in December of 2010, Progeny has reached the top 10 in Top Rated Epic Fantasy on Amazon.com.
Visit http://www.rtkaelin.com for more information on me and my work.
Best/easiest place to get book (Print or Kindle) is at Amazon where there are 23/26 five-star reviews.
It is however available for the Nook and other eReaders via Smashwords or iTunes.
