Rival Gates's Blog, page 18

The Trouble With Healthcare

I grew up in Ontario, Canada though I was born in Port Huron, Michigan. And though we had to wait hours to see the family doctor, and there was no prescription drug coverage, my parents never paid for my doctor visits or hospital care when I crushed my shoulder in a biking accident. Not one dollar was charged to them and it was a major surgery. So I didn’t have to wait until the bones had settled in a deformed way they had me show up at the emergency room the one morning in the month the shoulder surgeon had to make rounds in the ER. He saw me on a consultation and whisked me off to surgery. Otherwise I would have looked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame for the rest of my life. Obviously it is a flawed system but my poor parents and I received no bill for world class care. Fast forward to today. My poor wife was in an auto accident and broke her foot. It’s $60 every time we breath the save air as the doctor. Then she needs two surgeries. One will be next week (So I might not blog) on Tuesday and one a few months down the road. So I have to pay one large deductible before insurance kicks in for part this year and then it resets in January so I pay it all again next year. It’s ridiculous. How are ordinary families supposed to pay for accidents? Then there will be physical therapy. My poor wife. But this system doesn’t work. The Canadian one isn’t perfect either as years ago my father waited in intensive care for 4 MONTHS for a triple bypass in a Canadian hospital and nearly died on their waiting list. Only by breaking the rules and letting a resident do the surgery did he pull through. That’s not the answer either. But there must be something in between. Imagine having no insurance! Something’s better than nothing but being in debt forever with insurance is no answer either. This is not my problem to solve. I’m just going to concentrate on my wife and her health.

Multi-Author Guest Blog

There was a multi-author blog of considerable size in which I was invited to participate. The question posed to each of us was, “What does your writing process look like?” My answer is a little way down though the answers are in no particular order. Some of the other authors had interesting points of view as well. Please take a look at this piece of which I am honored to be a part. http://marielavender.blogspot.com/201...
Enjoy!

Excerpt, "Repercussions"

Necromancer was the first to appear from the stairwell. He ordered the goblin guards to wait there. As the Court Magician hovered over to Anvar’s cell with his arms pulled into the sleeves of his white robe with scarlet trim, he lowered his head and sighed. “My Dear Chess Adversary. It would seem our games and conversations are at an end. As you have no doubt guessed, it frosted last night and there is no sign of Linvin.
“I am surprised by his inaction. I am rarely wrong about a person’s demeanor, but there is little in the Territory he could not handle and we know he entered the Territory some months ago. The only sound reason for his not being here by now is that he wanted you removed as an obstacle to his success. He was always a brilliant tactician, though I would never say it to his face, but I never would have guessed he would sacrifice you. Since childhood you are the closest thing he has known to a father. It is good we did not wager on this.
“I had hoped Linvin would show for the engagement for various reasons. Either Mandrean would be dead or I would have to remain his servant for the rest of his mortal life. It is such a pity your nephew’s good sense made him forget sentimentality and think of himself. With you out of the picture, he might come and give me what I want after all.”
Anvar stood directly across from him on his side of the cell. “Linvin might still show and fail. You said yourself that you doubted even Linvin could best Mandrean’s plan. If that happened, you would still be nothing but a servant.”
“I sense a proposition about to be made,” Necromancer remarked with skepticism. “You do remember I cannot disobey my bumbling master, Lord Mandrean.”
“That is not my intent. I am to be killed, but there is no saying how. Convince Mandrean to perform the act slowly. Give Linvin more time.”
Necromancer was taken aback by the offer. “You want me to convince Mandrean to slowly kill you? Surely you realize this will mean prolonged agony for you?”
“I know the ramifications.”
Necromancer nodded his head and the cell door opened. “Your faith in your nephew is misplaced. You are opening yourself up for torture with little chance of salvation. Perhaps you are too much of a martyr to suit me.”
“It is true that I believe in Linvin. As for being a martyr, it would mean I would have to die, and I have no intent on doing so.”

The Election Day Book

It’s Election Day and a day we should take pride in as Americans. No matter what you think of the candidates, we are blessed to live in a country that lets us choose from such poor choices. Many countries live under oppression and have no such freedoms to pick their leaders. But back to our election. The more it played out the more it seemed to me like this was a book written for the masses. Think about it. You have the hot headed, ill tempered, harsh mouthed, woman bashing, Latino bashing guy who’s not playing with a full deck, over inflated ego candidate. On the other side you have the slimy, hiding from the law, talking out both sides of her mouth, never giving a direct answer, should be wearing an orange jump suit, but has more money behind her than the Federal Reserve candidate. Put them together and notice when one of them had something bad happen, the other one immediately had something bad happen. It’s like a writer laid out the whole thing as a book and we are all just reading along. In a way, maybe that’s true. Maybe people are behind the scenes with this information and they are just waiting for the right time to release it? Now that’s an intriguing theory. These people have the damaging information and they release it when it will hurt the most or make their candidate look best. As a writer that’s exactly how I would lay out the story. It would be like two giant battleships slugging it out. Every blow would grip the reader more and more. Think I’m crazy? I bet there’s at least one person behind the scene pulling strings in this election, like in a book.

5 Star Review

Yesterday I received my first review on Amazon.com of “Repercussions Abound.” It was five stars which initially made me very happy but then the reader gave their reasons. They said “Goodie Two Shoes” Linvin finally showed some cracks in his personality. It was also noted that this book was written and edited better than the past ones. Remember, these are my babies out there. I have seen a problem either missed or created by editing in the past but they were few and far between. I hardly think they had serious problems. The weirdest part of all is that all of this was meant as a compliment. In the end I think more people will look at the 5 gold stars rather than what was written.
On to Halloween. I don’t know how many years in a row it has been but it has been a long time since we ran out of candy. The reason for this is because I always buy too much candy. I hand out a ton of it and the bowl seems to spontaneously regenerate with candy. No matter how many trick-or-treaters we get, we are always left with a giant bowl of candy. We have gotten smarter. At least we now buy candy we like to eat. It makes it tolerable. This year I had two (2) different kids say, “Hey, can I have the rest of your bowl of candy?” After telling them no they each wanted to know why. I told them I had to save some for the other children. Then I gave them each one piece of candy instead of the 3 I usually gave out and sent them on their way. Can you believe the nerve of those kids? That is the future of our society. Let’s hope they’re just a couple of bad apples and the rest of the bunch was fine.

Tuesday Excerpt, Repercussions

That same morning, Anvar awoke in his cell and felt decidedly colder than normal. He was short and frail, even as elves went, with silver-grey hair on his head and beard. His clothing was a fine white linen robe gloriously accompanied by iron shackles connected by a chain on his wrists. They prevented him from having free use of his hands and using his orange magic.
He threw off the rag he used for a blanket and rushed to the wall of his cell. There was a small barred window at the top of the wall too high for him to reach. Anvar stood on the edge of his bed as he had done on every cold morning and reached out to the window. This time was different than the others as his fingers felt the icy, wet sensation of frost on the bars which proceeded to melt against his skin. Anvar stepped down and looked at his hand in disbelief.
Linvin had months to arrive here and yet here we are. How could he forsake me? We have been so close for so many years. Did I mean so little to him that he would not come for me? No…No…No…That surely cannot be why. Something must have happened to him. Perhaps he was sleeping one night and a thief snuck into his camp and killed him. Maybe he was overcome by superior forces on the journey here. Mandrean might have already killed Linvin. That can’t be it. The whole point of this is to create a spectacle for the world to see so everyone knows he is better than Linvin. A quiet victory defeats the purpose of all this. Mandrean would have also used me as a bargaining chip in an altercation and clearly that has not happened. No, Mandrean has not seen him. So where is he?
Anvar sat on the edge of the bed with despair tugging at his elbow. Think of the situation like a general. If Linvin were to attack Mandrean, I would be used as a shield to prevent his action. Then my hostage status would be used to force him to capitulate. If all emotion were removed from the equation and it was looked at from a military point of view, Linvin would be better off to let them kill me first and then seek his revenge for my fall once their bargaining chip was gone. Then he could kill Mandrean and end their vendetta against him. It is logical. He is a great general. Such a plan has undoubtedly come to him. The question is whether my nephew would do such a thing to me. It seems either he would or he is dead. There was a sound of soldiers on the stairs. Either way, Mr. Greenlith, your time is up.

How and Why I Write

People always ask me, “When did you start writing?” I always answer succinctly that I started when I was 13 years old. What I don’t talk about is the why and how I started my stories. So I will tell you now. It was a really rough time in my family. My father was downsized from his job and no one was hiring. He was too experienced for most jobs or simply too old. It was a less politically correct time. He had been out of work for over a year and as the breadwinner things were really tough. We were going to lose our home and the future was very dark. Now add to this a thirteen year old boy who was severely depressed and was told by many he had a gift for writing. We lived in a condominium above a highway near Toronto Canada. I sat on my chest of drawers and watched the cars go by in the rain. I’ve got to do something or I’ll go crazy! I know; I’ll write a short story just for me. No one else needs to see it. During this time in my life I was reading epic fantasy and playing Dungeons and Dragons with my brothers. My genre was clear. Then I needed a main character. I didn’t want a human because everyone writes about humans. I thought strongly about an elf but envisioned them as frail and generally weak. Then I thought of a half elf. I got in at least one fight every day at school because everyone wanted to be the one to beat up the American. If I was successful then they would send several people to bring me down. My father was originally Canadian and never believed Canadians would act that way, regardless of the bruises and sprains. I lived the life of a half breed and could pour this into my character. Then I wanted him to go after something of great power. Obviously I couldn’t choose a ring. Swords had been done to death. I wanted something that could have an opposite. Then I thought of gemstones. I always liked blue sapphires but I needed another color. I ran into my brother’s room (Google before we had Google) and asked him if there was a red sapphire. He explained that technically there was but they are simply called rubies. I hopped back on the chest of drawers and rested my chin on my fist as I thought. There had to be a way to make this work. Then I came up with the idea for the great sapphire Prism of the Cosmos of which two pieces of equal power would be broken off and so on. There was always lined paper around the house. I started writing an outline and I soon found that I had the makings of much more than a short story. I was writing a book. The more I wrote, the more ideas came to me. And that is how a 13 year old started his series of novels.

It's All About Business

I started writing like most authors. I had dreams writing my stories, getting them published and becoming a famous author. That could still happen but I discovered there was a huge element I never considered; business. Writing is about business. Give the reader what they want. They don’t want 500 page books. They want books with strong female protagonists. They want sex scenes. They want books around 200 pages. They want romance. I reflected and found my books had almost none of these factors. So I continued to write the books the way I planned. It was too late to change something I’ve had planned for 30 years. Then promotion came into it. There were blog appearances to make. Summaries to write, interviews to do, and people to find to do reviews. Fantasy is not the most popular category right now because its fans often would rather play a video game than pick up a book. I do not fault them for that. I just have to draw their interest for my books. The business part isn’t all bad. It’s exciting to see yourself in a blog or read a positive review on line. But make no mistake about it, the business end is what it’s all about and it’s hard work. Your publisher will give a certain amount of help but in the end it’d up to you how badly you want to succeed.

Wednesday Excerpt, Repercussions

Mandrean became flustered and stood in front of his throne. “If he cares so much for you then where is Grithinshield?”
Anvar stood straight and tall in front of the emperor. “You said it yourself. He must have been delayed in a manner of which we are unaware. One thing I am certain of, though, is that Linvin will come if there is breath in his body. He may not make it in time to save me, but he will come. When he arrives, I would not want to be you. He will be sure to finish you this time. Bringing Linvin here will be the last mistake you ever make.”
“This fight will be different. I have you as a hostage.”
Anvar leaned forward and said, “Suppose he doesn’t care. He knows you will kill me regardless. Why surrender to your threats? What else do you have?”
Mandrean began to stammer and sat down. “I have the Blue Sapphire.”
“You had it before and Linvin beat you. What else do you have?”
“I have the staff for it now.”
“That only makes your magic equal to his and as you know, they cancel each other out. Therefore, it doesn’t matter. What else do you have?”
“I have an army.”
“Linvin killed nearly seven legions almost entirely by himself last time you fought and still had strength to defeat you. What else do you have?”
“I have my superior fighting skills.”
“The same skills Linvin faced while half dead and still was able to stab you and leave you for the buzzards? That’s your last line of defense? You had better make sure Linvin is more tired this time.”
Mandrean felt where the scar had been on his abdomen. “Linvin only beat me because my armor was not fitted properly and left a gap. This time I have a new set of plate mail made by the finest Dwarven craftsmen. With my family’s sword, I will defeat him once and for all.”
Anvar quickly pictured how a slow-moving, overweight man like the emperor would fare against the nimble, quick lightning attacks of Linvin in his dragon scale armor with Falconfeather at his command. He decided not to give too much away prior to the fight. “That will be a sight to behold.”
Mandrean practically leapt out of his seat and began to circle Anvar. For his part, the prisoner looked unimpressed and showed no signs of being intimidated. “Look at you,” said Mandrean. “So smug in your belief in Linvin. Well he has abandoned you. While you toil in prison, he goes on about his life without you. Perhaps my agents were wrong about his feelings for you. He went without a mother or father for most of his life. Why would he care what happens to you?
“After all your posturing, you’re just scared to die. Every day you must look at that cell window and see if there’s frost on the bars. What are you afraid of? You’ve lived a long life, Old Elf.”
“I do not fear death.”
“Of course you don’t. You fear being the cause of Linvin’s death. Your bluffs will not fool me. Linvin adores you like a father and in that twisted mind of his he’s going to think he can save you two. If only he knew my plans, he would see that it is just not meant to be.”
“You, on the other hand are far too confident and sure of yourself. It is time to remind you that you are a prisoner. Guards.” The four goblins Acreas had sent as an escort came forward and stood behind Anvar.
“I want him to suffer and suffer mightily,” Mandrean ordered. “Do not puncture him, however, we would not want him to expire too soon.”
The emperor placed his hands behind his back and began shuffling toward his exit. “This exercise is about power, Anvar. It takes power to inflict pain. You and your nephew have been the cause of a great deal of pain to me. It is time you saw my power and learned what real pain was like.”

Today's Rant

This may not be my most popular blog of the year but it reflects how I feel. Too many people are going around calling themselves “Experts” when their claim is built on weak credentials. According to the dictionary, “The definition of expert is someone who is very skillful or has advanced training and knowledge in a particular area or field.” I constantly get emails from people who have published a book and want me to pay them to help me write one myself. Not to brag but I have 4 books published. Why do I need their help? And of course, they all call themselves experts. I freely admit that I learn something new with each book. If you aren’t learning even when you reach that golden plateau we all dream about, then you are just kidding yourself. I learn from other authors and editors. I learn from fans and try to remain humble. But I couldn’t stay silent anymore after 4 more expert emails today. It’s like someone making a cake once and then going on television and telling people they’re an expert cake maker. There just isn’t enough evidence to support the claim. I can’t help it. I don’t like the word “Expert” being thrown around by people highly unlikely to deserve it at this point in their career. That’s my rant. Peace, out.