Dale Amidei's Blog, page 12

SCP Editing Revisited

Process improvement should be the goal of any organization concentrating on excellence. In endeavoring to produce quality content, we have naturally learned some things since the dark days of 2011. Then, my first novel went to beta reading with a number of embarrassing errors. Worse, some of those survived to publication.

Why did those initial stumbles happen? Insufficient proofreading was one reason, certainly. I once utilized an editing plug-in for MS Word whose interface sometimes introduced separate mistakes when used to correct the initial problems. Currently, edits are applied manually, sans visual interference from any busy-looking overlays. They are backed up with additional procedures which, for my third novel Killing Doctor Jon, finally produced a nearly perfect release candidate draft.

The following is a revised summary of the quality control procedures here at Single Candle Press. These processes take place in collaboration between the SCP Lead Editress, any outsourced contractors we might utilize, and myself:

A. Write a great novel. This seems self-evident advice, but frankly is ignored far too often Not everyone has the talent, the vision, or the diligence to produce an adequate result. Be honest with yourself, and listen to the opinions of others. What follows is too much effort to waste on substandard prose. Refuse to be part of the Tsunami of Crap.

B. Seek help. You cannot accomplish as good a result solo as you will achieve with multiple sets of eyes and an editor whose experience and interpretations differ from your own.

C. The content edit: An initial evaluation is made at a normal reading pace through the draft one chapter at a time, evaluating the plot and identifying any areas needing clarification or rewrites before more detailed attention is applied to the manuscript.

D. Research: This involves the confirmation of anything (fact, name, event, date, likelihood etc.). Continuity and time synchronization issues are resolved. Any potential snags that remain unresolved are diagnosed. Following the first two phases, any deficiencies identified are addressed before the heavy lifting begins in the following stage.

E. Primary editing or the main edit is undertaken chapter-by-chapter and one scene at a time. Focus is on grammar, paragraph structure and achieving a varied sentence structure. Before starting, the scene is scanned for paragraph structural variety. Changes are applied in economical fashion. Within a paragraph, sentence structure also scanned in similar fashion to assure structural variety. Grammar is edited following standards from the Purdue OWL, then grammarbook.com, then the Chicago Manual of Style. When in doubt, avoiding reader confusion wins out.

Initially, this took place on double-spaced hard copy. That technique allows the pass-through of too many errors—particularly when it comes to proper comma usage—thereby slowing progress in later proofreading stages. The reason for this is that the red ink of the markups makes the final read-through much more difficult, as discovered once we transitioned to MS Word’s Track Changes feature. Track Changes also doubles the page-per-hour output of the editor.

F. Word checks are completed scene by scene. Word use, compound words, and word combinations involving hyphen or comma use are confirmed. Definitions and spelling are checked if necessary.

G. Evaluation and read-through is done in one sitting of the entire chapter at normal reading speed. A scan is conducted for repeated words or ideas. Final edits are marked and addressed. As with each draft and stage, a properly titled copy of the manuscript is retained as is and marked DO NOT MODIFY to act as a backup. Entire scenes can be and have been selected and deleted accidentally here while conducting word counts.

H. The title is then given an audio proofread in text-to-speech software. This technique is excellent for exposing any need to substitute words to avoid repetition or to smooth presentation. And, yes, it also catches errors that “brain fill” has let slip past previous efforts.

I. Electronic formatting follows, allowing a device emulator proofread. This stage was initially omitted and resulted in the embarrassment mentioned in regard to my first title. DEP allows us to review the manuscript in a different font and page layout, and that will sometimes highlight a needed change unnoticed in word processing screens.

J. Paperback formatting follows, with a review of the entire hard copy proof. Think all errors are gone by this stage? Guess again. Differing the layout can again show one new areas to address.

K. Beta reading emphasizes error reporting via [anomaly] near [searchable phrase] and includes the return of a feedback form. Here, we can hope for a clean read.

L. The final, most intolerable phase of editing is correcting discovered post-publication errors. I’m proud to report that, in the months since the release of Killing Doctor Jon, this step has so far proven unnecessary. Should an error be found in the future, past experience tells me that I can have it corrected and the new version uploaded to all major distributors within an hour. Let’s see the Big Six pull that off.

Three titles and forty-nine five-star reviews later, I am beginning to think that we are on to something. Jon’s Trilogy has amassed 94% of the Amazon stars available in customer ratings, and I know that quality assurance is part of the reason why. My readers have said as much.

Choose to Love. -DA

Vince Flynn—Remembered

Writers of Political Fiction are flying their colors at half-staff this week as a memorial to Vince Flynn, author of a dynamic series of novels that continue to hold the attention of his fan base. His titles are familiar here, as they were always and doubtless will continue to be constant occupants in the top listings of the genre we share.

Vince Flynn—whose journey, by the way, began with self-publishing—pleased his audience. His achievement is reflected in his rankings in Amazon Best Sellers, but just as significant and more laudable is his residence in Amazon Top Rated. As of this writing, Mr. Flynn’s titles occupy seven of the Top Twenty slots by customer ranking.

It is good writing that will be remembered. Literature endures past the span of its author. Writing well grants a legacy of remembrance that travels past the point in time where one’s children will grow old and pass on in their own journey. There is a secret promise in the crafting of words … one that offers an opportunity to endure. Thoughts frozen in time by transcription carry forward the mind of their author, and hold a chance for that much immortality at least. We still read Homer nearly three millennia later, and we do so because he chose to write.

Vince Flynn did so as well, and his results speak for themselves. Congratulations, sir. You used what time you were granted to its best effect, which is as much as any of us can hope to do.

Choose to Love, -DA

Standing Down

Today is a special day. It marks the end of my Year in the Chair, which was the fulfillment of an ambition to devote twelve months to the full-time writing of fiction. I held that ambition since at least 1998, and a less refined vision for much longer than that.

As a child, something struck me about reading as soon as I mastered the skill. It was the play of words across the page, bringing with them a caravan load of imagery and the ability to transport and suspend the reader in a world created by their crafter. Later, as age refined my perspective, I noticed how words preserved the thoughts of the author, and realized that our inner processes make up so much of what we are. Those are lost to the world with us, unless we are remembered in some way. Writing can do that. I believe authoring a work is taking a shot at immortality: the secret dream of everyone writing with intent. The opportunity came, so I did just that.

I started the YITC with three novels completed and one published—Jon’s Trilogy—consisting of The Anvil of the Craftsman, The Britteridge Heresy, and Killing Doctor Jon. The lead title’s supporting alpha-male character begged for a prequel, and writing it made up the first effort of my Year. Operation Naji is the worthy effort of presenting the first portion of my spooky USAF officer’s back-story. It will be my next release and is up for publication this summer through Single Candle Press.

Another character grew and blossomed in my mind as the YITC continued: Rebecca Boone Hildebrandt. Her character is a different sort of lead. She finds her footing in the sand of the world rather than on the bedrock of Jon Anthony’s faith. Boone is a flawed character. In many ways, she is the victim of her own bad decisions—her courage and dedication to duty notwithstanding. She is and continues to be a work in progress, and portraying her as such came to be the point of her novels: Absinthe and Chocolate, The Bonus Pool and One Last Scent of Jasmine.

The same Special Operator to whom so many of my readers attached in Anvil afterward demanded a second installment of his history. It is King of a Lesser Hill, one that takes place in 1995 during the height of the conflict in Bosnia and Herzegovina. The installment makes up the middle title of his previously unseen life prior to 2006. The novel is everything that I wanted it to be, and stands as a perfect companion piece to Operation Naji.

So, I began the Year with three novels and finish with eight. The first trio is in the marketplace. All are full-length, which I personally consider to be above 80,000 words. Boone’s third stretched slightly longer than Anvil and is my most extensive to date. Her fourth, with the working title of Meat for the Lion, is my current WIP, and the third title of my military alpha’s back-story grows in my mind. Writing—for a writer—never really ends.

What does disappear, unfortunately, is the emotional carrying capacity of so many authors, when little reward for thousands of hours of their labor seems forthcoming. Once today’s hours are logged, I will have worked the Chair for more than 2,570 hours in the past year, when a 40-hour workweek would have consumed 2,080. I will have averaged fifty-plus-hour weeks with no time off save that required by family duties. Excluding the two weeks we spent losing Mother, each of the other days has a work-related entry.

Frankly, I am dragging myself across this finish line. Accomplished author Joe Konrath frequently says that self-publishing is a marathon and not a sprint, and I would agree. The vision from a past Olympic race comes to mind. A stumbling runner, covered with her own feces, staved off helping hands as she crossed the line on her own in a finish followed by a collapse. It is the perfect representation of the experience of writing fiction and attempting to have one’s effort result in a tangible return.

The real challenge in traditional or self-publishing is marketing in an environment where technology has made producing an electronic title a viable goal for anyone with a personal computer. Putting up a quality work is now the equivalent of playing a violin in the din of a machine shop. The effort itself might be beautiful, but it is unlikely that many will notice.

I have accumulated forty-two reviews on Amazon across three novels, and all of them are perfect scores, save for the questionable opinion expressed in a single three-star. I’ve given away more than twelve thousand one hundred copies of Anvil, that novel I love so much. So far, one-half of one percent of those downloading have returned to pick up another of the modestly-priced titles in Jon’s Trilogy. With eleven thousand-plus novels appearing every month, apparently there are too many other free titles available, and some of those are just as good as mine. Point-five-percent sell-through ain’t gonna feed the parakeet, much less the bulldog.

Another problem with pursuing success in self-publishing is the inability of even those who have achieved significant sales to explain fully why it happened. Some titles of equal quality and presentation achieve that wonderfully viral condition, and many others do not, and no one really knows the reasons successes occur. The emergence of marketing targeted to genre-specific subscriber lists may be starting to change that, and will be the focus of efforts once Operation Naji is edited, formatted and out the door. Hopefully, that happy strategy will turn things around in our SCP balance sheets.

Until then, I will be taking time to read friends’ work and relax while I look for an opportunity allowing contribution to society in a more appreciable way. Boone’s fourth novel—and Sean’s third—will continue as time allows. When or if they are finished, I will have matched the quantitative full-length output of Ernest Hemingway. It might be time then to stop altogether, or continue on. One never knows until the new day arrives, fresh with the promise of a blank page.

This final day of my Year in the Chair, as every one on which the sun has set before, is both an end and a beginning. To lose sight of that actuality is to improperly manage perspective, and shirk our duties to both our Craftsman and ourselves. Let it never be so.

Choose to Love, -DA

Jon’s Trilogy

There is a principle of writing and marketing known as The Rule of Three. This idea suggests that tripartite content, being the smallest number required in establishing a pattern, is the most straightforward approach to connecting with one’s target audience.

On December 27, 2010, when I had finished setting up a new computer and began wondering what to do with it, I did not immediately plan to write a novel. I certainly had no idea that the work—which would become Anvil—would consume my free time for the period of twelve months. It would have been even more of a surprise to know that I would see two more of Jon Anthony’s titles published by the end of March 2013. I would never have imagined that I would be fulfilling a lifelong ambition of devoting a year full-time to the writing of fiction. The Rule of Three, however, seemed to apply itself spontaneously, and the words began to flow.

Every story has a beginning, a middle part, and an end, as Jon tells his college students in Killing Doctor Jon. So does his trilogy. They correspond to my goals for readers in the series, ones that I defined early on in the process.

The Anvil of the Craftsman, Jon’s introduction and adventure in Iraq, is a glimpse at the reasoning and philosophy guiding a young, bright, articulate postgraduate student in 2006. Methodologically, this would be Rationale.

The Britteridge Heresy provides insight into the actions his attitudes toward his faith and fellow man provoke, wrapped in the intrigue of an international drama. Jon, through no choice of his own, is forced to “walk the walk” of a believer, and again his faith carries the day. It defines, as I realized, Jon’s Method.

His third title, Killing Doctor Jon, makes it clear that this is Jon Anthony’s Trilogy. It is the most spiritually intense of the three, a story line that—as one of Jon’s beta readers puts it—“knocks you on your butt.” Doctor Jon defines the stakes in the race of life against death, a contest with a temporal finish line and eternal consequences. The plot is some aspects is a departure and in others defines the entire purpose of the exercise. In the Rule of Three it is Relevance.

Three titles, three objectives, and an undercurrent of interconnection make Jon’s Trilogy an experience. As entertainment, there is adventure, action and suspense, and even a hint of romance. I have been asked “what are your novels about?” In the end, as are all good stories, they are about people. I have spent twenty-seven months and counting with those who populate Jon Anthony’s universe, and it has been an entirely worthwhile journey.

The Anvil of the Craftsman, The Britteridge Heresy, and Killing Doctor Jon are the journey of a lifetime … for Jon Anthony and for anyone else who can read and think at the same time. I hope that you will enjoy all three.

*In the run-up to the release of Jon’s Anthony’s third title, Killing Doctor Jon, my debut novel and the first of Jon’s Trilogy is being made available at very special pricing:

99¢ at Amazon and Barnes and Noble

Free via Smashwords, iTunes and Kobo

Choose to Love, -DA

Love, baby, that’s where it’s at

Inspiration can be found in the oddest places … including a snippet from the lyrics of the B-52s’ Love Shack. Love, celebrated in this season on St. Valentine’s Day, is an essential emotion and one that marks the boundary between life and death in a multiplicity of ways.

Love is a victory of clarity. To adopt it from the tripartite choice we have in aligning our souls (which is the love, hate or indifference of my character Jon Anthony’s soliloquy in The Anvil of the Craftsman) is a choice, and one that is most telling.

Love, which we define as the appreciation for the beauty in and the hope for the abundance of life, should be the singular pursuit of the living. To adopt an orientation toward hate, or to simply not care one way or the other, are in either case the choice of a little death.

You can see a person’s life in their eyes. It dances in the light that gleams there when they are alive inside. You can see darkness just as well, in the deep and dark pools of nothingness of those who are lost.

Love—the appreciation of the beauty in and the wish and hope for the abundance of life—is a connection to the prime motivation of the Craftsman in creating those who would choose to willingly return the sentiment. It gives from within itself the opportunity for adoption, and the same chance to pass itself on in a continual cycle of love and life.

The seed of love is stronger than the fire of hate or the drought of indifference, in that it is the only one of the three able to sustain itself. Hate may spread death for a time, but the worst conflagration eventually runs out of fuel for its flames. In the ashes of what it leaves behind, the seeds of life that outlast any circumstance can begin again. Love and life are reflections of the motivation and labor of an eternal God, and so—unlike the works of His enemy in hate and death—they will never fail utterly.

Somewhere in the cascade of pink ribbons and chocolate and card stock that seems to have taken over the commemoration of St. Valentine’s legacy, I hope that you have time to reflect and make your foundationary choice if it has never yet occurred to you. You are alive, and are therefore meant to live. Once you understand, it is only a single step backward into the arms of your Creator.

Choose to Love, -DA

SCP Editing

The following is an interesting summary of the quality control procedures here at Single Candle Press. These processes are a collaboration between the SCP Editress and myself:

Editing covers one chapter at a time in order to replicate as closely as possible the reader experience. No reading ahead is allowed.

A. The initial read-through establishes the feel of the chapter. No markups occur at this point.

B. The second read-through moves slowly to absorb details and to better understand plot points that may have been unclear the first time through. No markups occur, but mental notes are made concerning passages that may need more attention.

C. Primary editing is undertaken one scene at a time. Focus is on grammar, paragraph structure and achieving a varied sentence structure. Before starting, the scene is scanned for paragraph structural variety. Changes are applied in economical fashion. Within a paragraph, sentence structure also scanned in similar fashion to assure structural variety. Grammar is edited following standards from the Purdue OWL, then grammarbook.com, then the Chicago Manual of Style. When in doubt, avoiding reader confusion wins out.

D. Word checks are completed scene by scene. Word use, compound words, and word combinations involving hyphen or comma use are confirmed. Definitions and spelling are checked if necessary.

E. Research. This involves the confirmation of anything (name, event, date, etc.) Continuity and time synchronization issues are resolved. Any potential edits that remain unresolved are finalized.

F. Final read-through is done in one sitting of the entire chapter at normal reading speed. A scan is conducted for repeated words or ideas. Final edits are marked. The chapter is initialed and dated.

G. The title is then given an audio proofread.

H. Electronic formatting follows, allowing a device emulator proofread.

I. Paperback formatting follows, with a review of the entire hard copy proof.

J. Beta reading emphasizes error reporting via [anomaly] near [searchable phrase] and includes the return of a feedback form.

K. Correcting discovered post-publication errors. Some day—I swear—this step will be unnecessary.

Two titles and twenty-seven five-star reviews in a row later, I am beginning to think that we are on to something. “Killing Doctor Jon” is due out in March, God willing, and we will see.

Choose to Love. -DA

Advent

Bethlehem, Judea

The Census of Quinirius in the years of Augustus

Two men, clad in white, walked a hill overlooking the town. The night, as always outside a camp or the confines of a town, was quiet and cold. Only the moon and stars provided what light broke the darkness. One of those this night shone brightly enough that the shadows, however, held little dominion.

The praise that had taken place was over, and the only witnesses had been the shepherds and their flocks bedded down in these hills. There was time for reflection now, and for walking, and to learn.

One of the two was very old, though his steps were not heavy with age. The other was less so. He had been apprenticed only shortly before the blessed event, and there was still so much that he did not understand. They stepped, but the sandy ground did not show their tracks. They seemed to shine with a light from within, but the luminance cast no shadow. They were here in the land of David, but the lesser of the two felt as if they were also not here. It was not the first such feeling that had come in his new time.

“Friend,” he asked, hesitant to disturb the moment that was upon the land. “What has happened here? Is something new between them and us?”

The old one smiled and shook his head. They paused in their walk, looking down on the edge of the small town, where lights, even in the outbuildings, could still be seen to shine. He leaned on his staff of white as the newcomer attended him. This one seldom spoke, but his words were worth hearing whenever they came.

“Something new? Hardly.” His elder’s eyes—still bright—turned from the town to look at his companion. “Something that has always been, rather, has passed for a time into the realm of men and the line of time.” He smiled, as his gaze returned to the scene below. “It is how they understand things, you see. One moment leads to the next while they live.”

“I understand that, at least, now,” the elder’s apprentice replied. “But why the passing?”

“To show love in the time of men! It will be a blessing to them all, as was the Praising, so that they can hear in its telling and retelling. The Spirit moves in such times, you see, and communes with whom it will.” He straightened, and his staff moved forward as their walk began once more.

“To them all?”

“Yes—all. Every one,” the old one asserted. “Some will not take it up, of course, but that is their choice. Those that love will see in their hearts, even if they do not hear the stories … or know the names.”

The apprentice looked back toward the lights of the town. “And what then will they see?”

The old one paused once more, and bent down to the sandy ground. He pressed his finger into the soil. This time, it yielded, and unlike on any other of their journeys, a few flecks of the dust adhered. The grains came up with him as a display. His companion watched as his fingers flicked them away. The grit dissipated until only a single speck remained. The elder regarded the smallest bit of Judea that he could obtain.

“They will see someone in themselves,” he mused. “Someone less than Who created them, and wonder to their own purpose. Then the Spirit comes, you see, and fear retreats before Him. Love is left behind, and another part of the Whole is set in place, each tended as carefully as any other … each in his own time.” The old one paused, and together they looked back toward the lights of the town. “Or in hers,” he intoned.

A final flick of his fingers returned even the last speck of soil to the ground from whence it had risen, and the lesser of the two perceived his lesson. That ground was made of many of the same. So was the land, as was this Earth … and that remained only a part of the many attentions of Heaven.

“So long an effort, is this whole of parts,” the lesser of the two whispered.

“He is a Craftsman … one who works slowly and well, until His results are achieved. How else would it happen, outside the line of time?”

The young one nodded, his head lowering in respect as they moved on. As they walked, the Judea landscape seemed to absorb them, and after a short time, they too were gone. The moment had passed, and yet remained. As with all His servants, it was eternal.

Choose to Love, -DA

Last Weekend on Earth

Welcome to the Last Weekend on Earth as we on the WG2E Street Team commemorate the close of the Mesoamerican Long Count calendar’s 13th b’ak’tun, or Mayan date 13.0.0.0.0, on December 21, (or 23, depending on which egghead you are listening to) in this year of our Lord 2012. Although the Mayans themselves seemed to largely expect nothing significant to come of the date, it does offer a chance to reflect on what we would be doing should the world as we know it decide to come to a screeching, pull-the-emergency-chain halt a few days from now.

This may or may not seem entertaining depending on one’s perspective. Personally, I tend to avoid dystopian fantasies, as I find they distract me from concentrating on the evaluation our dystopian reality. Lately, though, I have noticed how themes in popular culture seem to be speaking to the group mindset of those participating. Case in point: zombies.

Have you noticed that popular culture seems lately obsessed with the concept of an outbreak of one kind or another resulting in an influx of great numbers of the living dead? Walking corpses prowling about seeking the unaffected for the purposes of bloody and noisy consumption is a popular meme, not only in the media, but also in marketing. That’s hilarious, I know, until one realizes that the Zombie Apocalypse is a sub-textual reference to an anticipated and extended period of social unrest; one leading to a contest of survival between dehumanized elements and the rest of us.

Not so funny anymore, is it? (Tactical tip: Gunfire draws zombies. It is best to use an edged weapon to start.)

Another theme emerging from musings of the slightly less sub-textual involves open expressions of preparing for the “SHTF scenario.” For those of you less well-versed in acronymic interpretation, that refers to the point in time symbolized by a convergence of a generous supply of dung and an electrically-powered air moving device. People in this clique don’t bother referencing walking corpses. They prefer their corpses neatly stacked in layers at the front of their homes, providing soft cover and acting as a none-too-subtle warning to the next band of marauding miscreants.

So what exactly is it that has people so damned nervous?

Those of us watching have come to realize, particularly after the results of the last presidential contest, that great numbers of our fellow citizens apparently have lost basic abilities relating to discernment of character and the ability to grasp simple economic concepts such as debt loading and how it relates to the valuation of currency. With the fiscally illiterate now outnumbering the cognoscenti, it is simply a matter of time before the house of cards built with imaginary dollar bills comes crashing down. Once that happens, the cities will run out of food first. Bands of feral humans will then spread out in foraging behavior, and at that point the unprepared are basically schtupped.

Hope you have beer in the house when that happens.

Psalm 110 tells us that: “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; A good understanding have all those who do His commandments; His praise endures forever.” (NASB) People have quite simply become comfortable and self-absorbed enough that they have forgotten first how to incorporate information that has endured longest because it matters most. In spiritual terms, that is information supporting decisions deemed most important because they have the longest lasting consequences.

People of such mind don’t feel the need to read the Bible to guide their lives anymore, because they have Siri on their iPhone. Any issue more complicated can be resolved by watching the ladies (clear throat) on The View or Jon Stewart’s comedy. The fear of God is lost, and with it the foundations of wisdom, which we define as the ability to anticipate consequences. The mounting wave of real-world aftereffects from their resultantly stark stupidity can, for a time, be pinned on a predecessor or falsely attributed to political opposition.

Until, that is, the zombies come.

So, we arrive in a rather roundabout way to the point where I am supposed to answer the question: What would I do with my last weekend on Earth? Well … I would hold those dearest to me while time yet allowed. Pray, of course, that God has good use for all that is about to happen. Set up a tower of water and another of food for the Perimeter felines, just in case they are on their own for a while. Possibly I would work a whetstone over the edge forward of the sweet spot of my century-plus-old Bhojpure kukri, the only portion of the blade which cannot yet shave hair from my arm.

I would hope, should we be gone when the time of trouble comes, that people can put to good use the contents of our home, which we have filled with useful things that are far better to have than to need. To answer the contemptuous secular bumper sticker: Yes, you can have my stuff after the Rapture. But you also need to feed my cats.

Most of all I would spend as much time as I could writing, in the hope that I could cast a last clue to another soul who was one short. Faith comes by hearing, after all, and that by the Word of God. After follow the gifts of the Spirit, such as discernment, through which worlds—found within us as well as on the outside—can begin again out of any circumstance.

May we all move on to Christmas now?

Choose to Love, -DA

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And hop on over to the other blogs for our LWoE:

Anna Erishkigal

Stacy Green

Rhonda Hopkins

CC MacKenzie

Catie Rhodes

PJ Sharon

Midpoint

Today begins the seventh month of my year dedicated to writing. Starting with character and plot development and proceeding through writing and refinement, the first six produced editable drafts of three novels.

The first was the back-story of everyone’s favorite Air Force officer from The Anvil of the Craftsman entitled Operation Naji, followed by Boone Hildebrandt’s first and second titles Absinthe and Chocolate and The Bonus Pool. Together, these total a bit over 245,000 words, as each exceeds my personal goal of an 80,000-word piece. Writing the manuscript, however, is not the only step in publishing. It will be at least a year and a half until these three novels are edited to a standard of perfection, formatted and ready for sale.

An occupation which entails working a 40-hour week encompasses 2,080 hours over the 52 weeks of a year. Thus far during my Anno Scrittura I have put over 1,266 hours into Single Candle Press. This, for me at least, seems to be as much as is humanly possible.

The desire to write was always there from the time I understood the concept of fiction. The chance to write as a primary occupation was a long-held dream, one that I first articulated more than fourteen years ago. Career goals, financial realities and survival needs being what they are, it took that long to reach a point in life where this year at a keyboard was possible.

What do I do? That’s a simple enough question.

Fifty to sixty hours a week, I labor under the weight of the assumption that it matters if I live deliberately, love intensely, and suffer immensely. I meet people as I travel without moving, some of whom share my sentiments and others who do not. All of those I see come into this world for the very first time.

They are strong and weak, faithful and faithless, smart and stupid. They are capable of gut-wrenching decisions, either tragic and destructive, or selfless and noble. They have both broken my heart and inspired my soul beyond expression in words.

I send the results of many hundred of hours of work out onto a flood plain of maddeningly obscuring literary crap. It is populated by a clientele seemingly of the opinion that I should work for a year and a half on 80,000 word novels that they may either download for free or purchase for 99 cents. I do all this in the hope that someone, somewhere will find my message in a bottle. For those few, my words might become an edifying component of this peculiar experience that we call a life. Once in a while, my writing seems to do exactly that. The intermittently reinforcing nature of working in hope proves itself often enough to keep me going.

Along the way, I have been blessed to discover that I am far from alone, and there are others just like me. Perhaps the commonality of our experience is another subtle sign that something, some day, will indeed come of all this.

In all likelihood, however, my Year in the Chair will come to an end never to be repeated. If only a few people read what I have written, and the experience moves forward with them through their days to bear eternal dividends, then that will be enough. The work of God takes place in infinitesimally small increments, and every beach has a finite number of grains of sand. From such faith grows concepts such as Mission and Testimony, and from trials are produced souls who embrace Virtue.

Six months remain. We will do what we can with them.

Choose to Love, -DA

Boone

Over the course of the last few months, I have been spending my days with a woman named Rebecca Boone Hildebrandt. Not to worry, friends and family; technically she does not exist—except on the pages of roughly four hundred and fifty pages of fiction that so far only I have seen.

Boone is the heroine (yes, I still use gender-specific terms) of a trilogy a bit over halfway to completion. Jon Anthony now has three titles of his own (two published, the third coming this winter), and everyone’s favorite Air Force officer has received his own back-story. Another vision now has residence in the private work space of my mind, and is at present flowing into some of the best prose that I have ever written.

Jon Anthony, my quiet, soft-spoken academic and man of unshakable faith, is one of those people whom one meets only now and again in life, a soul in which God’s enemy has never found a foothold. Mademoiselle Hildebrandt is someone quite different.

Boone lives in a world of deep, dark secrets. She works for the Office of the Director of National Intelligence, the top executive level of the United States Intelligence Community and the consolidating entity of intelligence organs in the U.S. government headquartered in McLean, Virginia. Her intellect and physical abilities have aided her ascension to the position of Level One Case Officer, and her job description in its most terse form is to solve problems that most will never know existed.

Boone’s exceptional ability to retain information had her leaving high school early, to study physiology in Europe, where she also navigated academe at an accelerated pace. Her doctorate secured, two years of training in the martial arts followed in Vietnam, studying the techniques of practitioners similarly small in stature, yet very dangerous.

For all her wondrous abilities, Boone is a flawed character. Her faith at the onset her debut, Absinthe and Chocolate, is practically nonexistent. She has a problem with alcohol. She takes the stresses of her work, the loneliness of her existence, and the weight of the lives she has extinguished and channels them into intoxication and sexual outlet.

Boone’s story, as all of ours shall be, is a tale of change. She is part hero (yes, sometimes I also use gender-neutral terms), part victim, and composed of both steel and velvet. She is, as one of her revelations in The Bonus Pool relays, “… all light, darkness, death, life, joy and grief, wrapped in a package that most people simply called Boone.”

The woman is a work in progress, in the pages of her fiction and in the part she plays in what God is doing, as are we all. Her purpose is unapparent, as it is for many of us, and will take patience to comprehend fully. Knowing her has nevertheless blessed me, and I am glad to be the woman’s chronicler.

There are many roads to the same destination. Boone and I are on one less traveled. I hope that my readers will understand.

Choose to Love, -DA