C.H. MacLean's Blog, page 2

One is Come, Two Empty Thrones, Fire Above, Lions and Tigers and Dragons, Oh My!

That’s a pretty long title for a blog, but I think it’s fitting. I’ve been busy, and my team has been as busy as bees building a beaver’s dam.

While munching on broccolini the other night, I reviewed my goals. The management experts tell me to do this regularly, and I find it annoyingly motivating. I really should do it in the morning so that it doesn’t drive my dreams, though. Waking in the middle of the night because dragons flamed my publicist’s house and destroyed all her records puts more pressure on the espresso.

This awesome dragon drawing was donated by the amazing Lynette Yencho. http://www.lynettestudio.com/

Checking in with her, she let me know her house is fine, or at least the One is Come publicity push is still scheduled to run until July 18th and that several blogs have posted a bunch of interviews I did. With that and the cover contest, the dragons will just have to accept that One is Come is out and getting a lot of attention.

Not only that, but Two Empty Thrones which will be released July 1st, is set to go on its book tour from August 4th – October 31st too, launching off the back of the flying One is Come. I’d love to know what you think, and if I’m missing a venue or audience outlet that would appreciate these books of the Five in Circle series.

But that’s not all, oh no, not all at all! I guarantee the dragons are going to be either stoked or pissed by what’s coming next. I’m glad my team is fully insured.

Delayed gratification is my nature. I even make up work to earn my chocolate ice cream. Finally tidy the bookshelf, clean the kitchen sink, whatever: the more difficult the task, the better the ice cream tastes. Crazy! Life is too short, right? Gather ye ice cream while ye may and all that. I’m getting better. My love is magical and incredible and she inspires me to grab life and all its joys.

So I’m having half an ice cream now, and the rest very soon. (It’s tremendous ice cream: homemade, with organic cocoa and sea salt.) I’ve finished another book, and am almost done with a fourth. Fire Above is with the editors, and the third book of the Five in Circle series, We the Three, will have a complete draft by month’s end.

Fire Above is outside of the Five in Circle series, although set in the same universe. The main character jumped out of my head, grabbed my pencil, and I couldn’t catch him until the story finished. The story’s a ripper, a first-person new adult/YA high fantasy with realism ties. A bit like Eye of Minds by Dashner or the first two Divergent books by Roth, but with dragons. You’d best buckle your seat belts before opening it.

With that one flying, We the Three grabbed me by the short hairs. It races along, and taking time away from it for silly things like eating and sleeping is starting to get to me. (I learned my lesson about that already, but that’s another story for another time.) As you might guess from the title, the dragons leap into the spotlight for this one, as if Haylwen and Cadarn don’t have enough problems already. Look out, world.

A lot going on, and more to come. With that, I’m going to just dash this quick note off, but feel free to ask about specifics. I’m really loving the feedback I’m getting, so keep it coming. Busy is good, and I’m honored to hear from you.

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One is Come Interview Links

Okay, quick post here just to share some interviews. Several blogs (12 to be exact) have interviewed me about One is Come and you can find them at the following links. Hope you’re enjoying your weekend.

 

Examiner

http://www.examiner.com/article/interview-with-c-h-maclean-author-of-one-is-come

 

All Voices

http://www.allvoices.com/contributed-news/17287069-interview-with-ch-maclean

 

The Writer’s Life

http://thewriterslife.blogspot.com/2014/06/interview-with-ch-maclean-story-just.html

 

As the Page Turns

http://asthepageturns.blogspot.com/2014/06/interview-with-ch-maclean-author-of-ya.html

 

Review from Here

http://reviewfromhere.com/2014/06/15/interview-with-c-h-maclean-author-of-one-is-come/

 

Between the Covers

http://bookexcerpts.wordpress.com/2014/06/15/interview-with-c-h-maclean-author-of-ya-fantasy-one-is-come/

 

The Book Rack

http://thebookrack.wordpress.com/2014/06/13/interview-with-c-h-maclean-author-of-one-is-come/

 

Literarily Speaking

http://literarilyspeaking.net/2014/06/15/interview-with-ya-fantasy-author-c-h-maclean/

 

I’m Shelf-ish

http://www.imshelfish.com/2014/06/interview-with-ch-maclean-author-of-one.html

 

Beyond the Books

http://beyondthebooks.wordpress.com/2014/06/13/c-h-maclean-being-published-only-inspires-me-to-write-more-and-write-better/

 

Book Publishing Secrets

http://publishingsecretsofauthors.blogspot.com/2014/06/book-publishing-secrets-ch-maclean.html

 

SheWrites

http://www.shewrites.com/profiles/blogs/interview-with-c-h-maclean-author-of-one-is-come

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Do Anything

I really believe anything is possible. You only need two things to do anything: motivation and time.

Motivation is the tricky one.

Sometimes people want something, but not all of it, and think they can separate it. I’m a pretty fit guy, but it is because I want both to be fit and I like to be active and eat healthy. My friend is fit, but hates it, because he just wants to be fit. He has no motivation to become or stay fit.

A classic old line, “I don’t like writing, but I want to have written,” captures this perfectly. Motivation is simple when it all fits together. I love to write at least as much, if not more, than being able to say I wrote something. I think most people are amazed by those that are motivated for the entire set.

Time is the one that gets me.

I can have motivation dripping out of my eyes, but without enough time, nothing happens. Motivation to act, without action. I think that’s the definition of frustration.

(I love the saying, “I’ll make time for that.” I really want that time-making spell, but I think I would abuse it horribly.)

But patience, or stubbornness, can make up for limited time. Even if I only carve out an hour a day, at the end of a year, I will have “made” over 360 hours. That’s 9 forty-hour work weeks. Two months is a lot.

If you really want something, you can do anything.

If you had two months to do whatever you wanted, what would you do?

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A Sunny Spot

It’s hard-wired, I know. But still.

A bright, sunny day is precious and magical. Right now, the sun is peeking over the rim of trees. Its the time of year when the sun lines up to shine through one of my windows, a little like an ancient calendar.

Sitting in the sun is both relaxing and energizing. (Our skin makes an essential vitamin when sunlight hits it, too!) I gather my things, ready to finally get to sit in the sun and work.

I must have left the desk chair pushed away last night, as it is turned and facing the window. Two of my cats, ginger tabbys, greet me with sleepy eyes and soft purrs. The sun pours on them, a liquid blanket of gold. They shift to accept my pets, turning the sun into flames rippling across their coats, their purring increasing to something like the noise of a distant roaring fire.

Here they are in a sunny spot when they were itty-bitty.

I could just move them, and at least one would likely come back to my lap. The other would just have to find another spot to sleep.

I pause. Its been a long week. I know how it feels: to think you can relax, then someone comes along with the power to just move you.

But there are things to be done, and it’s the cats or me.

The cats purr and snuggle in as I find another place to work.

What can I say. I’m a softie. Watching them in the sun isn’t exactly the same, but good enough.

What is your sunny spot?

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More Chocolate

Effort has its limits.

This statement can be said about many things. In particular I am thinking of how it’s true about writing, or maybe just editing.

For me, at first, an image explodes, fills me with verve and motivation. Ideas spill and scatter, mixing together and sticking together. Small become bigger, take on lives of their own. It’s all I can do to hold on, get them out quickly enough.

I make a huge mess, and hopefully when it’s all done, I have something to work with. I know its just a start. I know there will be a huge effort to turn that pile of words into something you’ll want to read.

Following the law of diminishing returns. I don’t find effort equals improvement. I don’t see that the more work I put in, the better it becomes. Movement without improvement. Banging your head against a wall. At some point, it’s just effort, and those points may not be at the end of the project.

I liken it to making chocolate cake. I have a recipe, but I don’t follow it perfectly. At first, flour, sugar, and baking soda dust the counter on their way to the bowl. In that gentle crucible, milk and eggs transform them. Magically, abracadabra, batter. Then it’s time to add the chocolate.

I like rich, chocolaty cake. But I know, at some point, adding more chocolate doesn’t make it better. It doesn’t make the cake more chocolaty. It’s just more chocolate.

Time to put this blog post into the oven.

What’s your chocolate cake?

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Horse or Donkey?

 

I’m stubborn. Not only a Taurus, I was also born in the year of the Ox. I’m mixing my astrology, I know. I guess it’s why I have a double helping of stubborn.

Do I think I don’t have a choice in being stubborn?

No. I don’t believe in predestination or anything that restricts free will, although I don’t know how to adequately explain how astrology is so accurate.

Anyway, at the start of an action, I’m called stubborn (if I’m nice about it).

If it ends up that I was right, I’m complimented on my determination. People like determination. Persistence, stick-to-it-ness, all good qualities.

If I’m wrong, well, then that same quality flips. I’m not only stubborn, but stupid as well. Probably mean, too. Stubborn as a donkey, an animal not smart enough to know better and too mean to force. It’s probably where the slang use of its other name came from.

You can’t get a donkey to do something it doesn’t want to do. If you ride a donkey, it won’t go just anywhere you tell it, and won’t go further than it’s willing. Stubborn. Now, their close cousins, horses, aren’t stubborn.

Everyone loves a horse. Works like a horse, as they say. Once trained, they’ll do what you tell them. A good, dependable horse will work for as long as you want — well-past self-injury, even to death. Yes, a good horse will work and run itself to death if you tell it to.

Animal cruelty aside, what if you are both beast and rider? Is it good to ride yourself to death?

Suddenly, even stubborn doesn’t sound so bad. Maybe stubbornly refusing to go a step further is actually wisdom. Smart as an ass?

But everyone knows the easiest path to failure is to stop too soon. Countless true stories of going just a bit further resulting in success prove it. The donkey that refuses to go on just before safety will die just the same as the horse pushed too far…

If I could just predict the future, life would be easy. If I knew, really knew I would succeed, then I’d just have to judge if the cost is worth it. If I knew for sure I wouldn’t fail (and I would say dying usually fits under failure), I could know if my stubbornness is good or not.

Of course, I can’t predict the future. I don’t know anyone who can. So. Is it better to be a horse, or a donkey?

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A Reward From My Principal

Today I was reminded of a great lesson my principal taught me when I was sixteen.

I walked down the narrow hall, crowded with other kids rushing to leave school. We packed the hallway, a steady flow.

Like an explosion went off, a clearing appeared just ahead of me. I kept going, not that I had a choice, until I reached the edge of the clearing. Across from me, he stood, feet spread apart.



I remember the gleam in his eyes, the set of his thick shoulders as they bunched up to his lack of neck. The Bully. Before the whispers turned to chanting that filled the hall, I knew what he wanted. “Fight, fight, fight!”

I had taken my weightlifting to the next level the summer before. Maybe being bullied motivated me on some level. As a scrawny nerd, I had been stuffed into my locker by one. But I didn’t think about that. I just liked that it got me out of the house and when the soreness settled in, let me have an excuse to curl up and read. I wasn’t going for looks, though I didn’t mind the muscles that showed up.

I didn’t even think it would put me in the running for One Who Stood Up to The Bully. I mean, I wasn’t a fighter. I was still a nerd, just like last year! I could ignore suddenly getting pushed into the Jock clique, with its unwelcome popularity and attention. I had heard the rumors, had been asked the question. “Do you think you could beat up The Bully?” I laughed at the idea, dismissing it as a joke. I couldn’t ignore the clenched fists in front of me.

My smile, thinking this was still some kind of joke, triggered him. I guess he didn’t think it was a joke, and he glared at me, thick brows dropping. I was a nerd, but it wasn’t in me to run. Before I could say anything, he took a step forward, and I felt myself pushed into the empty space.

He swung a fist, moving so fast I only remember seeing it as it reached my face. Blurry, big as the moon, frozen forever in my memory.

The next moments were a blur. The next thing I will never forget is lying on the ground. The Bully lay under me, in a headlock, face pressed into the industrial orange carpet. I lay on one of his arms, like a small log pressed under my leg.

I checked myself, and felt only a scratch on my nose where his thumbnail must have grazed me. We sat there, the crowd around us completely silent. A few ineffectual struggles later, The Bully lay still. I had no idea what to do next, but knew I wasn’t going to let go.

The crowd murmured, “That’s it?” Disappointment quickly fled with the crowd as the janitor lead the principal to where The Bully and I lay.

“Stop fighting this instant!” the principal yelled.

I didn’t look at him, and thought for a moment. “Give up?” I asked The Bully.

A pause. “Sure,” he said.

I got up quickly, The Bully more slowly.

We were suspended, of course. I knew my parents were going to kill me, I would miss out on a lot of school, maybe even drop my GPA.

My father waited to let his judgment fall about the suspension until he heard the story from me on the drive home. Then he laughed.

“Suspension? Sounds like that boy will have a chance to cool off and you got a vacation as a reward.” I thought about it. Of course, he was right. On my own, I could ace through schoolwork much faster. Without the hassles of class, I could get ahead and even have time to spare. We went and picked up some extra fantasy books to fill up the time on my “vacation.”

It was a great lesson: You choose if something is good or bad.

You can learn a lot from your principal. Especially if you think life is learning, and school is everywhere, all the time.

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Season for Death

I almost crashed several times while driving out of my neighborhood this week.

Magical trail into a winter wonderland.

The lane is not tricky, and the snow didn’t faze me. The bright contrast of a white blanket cast

gently over the land usually soothes me, in fact. Trees and bushes slumbering peacefully, tucked in with a nice thick comforter, reminds me not to ignore natural signals. Summer’s riot of leaves and vines exploding into every slip of sunlight invigorates me when the sun shines. I’d be crazy to expect growth during the long nights, cold, and ice. Do not rush, nature reminds me, night is a time for rest and rejuvenation.

No, I like the way nature shows me that my humanity doesn’t separate me from the world.

I just wasn’t expecting chainsaws clear cutting the forest, dead trees stacked up along the side in ever increasing piles. I don’t know if there is a season for death.

Sure, my neighbors own their property. I don’t have any legal claim. I also know the world needs wood, and maybe these trees would prevent more plastic or strip mines. Maybe the cutting is part of a sustainable harvesting plan. Or maybe they will replace the trees with native species, providing them and the other life in the forest with restorative food and shelter. It’s possible, right?

I drive slowly, twisting my neck to glimpse any evidence I can give that perhaps unreasonable hope. Every day the dead tree piles get bigger, and I peer more closely.

A giant truck, here to collect the bodies, is definitely new.

The lane is slippery, and even driving slowly doesn’t replace careful attention to driving. I recover, but guess I’ll just have to find some time to walk over once they are finished.

Anything is possible, right?

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Earlier

Writing is loud and lonely work, sleep’s enemy.

I stare at the ceiling. The sun isn’t even thinking about rising yet. What in the world am I doing up? I sneak out of the bedroom.

My mind having pestered me all day and night, I finally convince myself I had enough sleep and drink a good dose of caffeine. While it lasts, my eyelids are light. I bounce in front of the computer, nervous and excited. At last!

Like a convict revealed under a guard’s uniform, my imagination lets free an uncountable number of characters. They run around, taking action, spouting lines, generally wreaking havoc. Teen boys and girls revel with magic, dragons battle, kings and creatures plot in the shadows. Each strives to live a lifetime in the hourglass of a cup of coffee.

I watch, taking notes as quickly as I can. Each is spectacular, and together they are an irresistible force. Who could sleep with all that racket anyway?

I see bits of my previous day in them. Over there, that warrior moves like the police officer I saw, and that dragon’s scales shimmer like yesterday’s sun shower.

Out from the crowd, a young woman marches up, undeniable. “We have decided we need more time.”

“I’m doing all I can,” I mumble. I mean, really, I’m just talking to myself. Besides, she is distracting me from all the action.

“Please,” she says. The look in her eyes is very convincing.

So, I’ll get up a little bit earlier tomorrow.

 

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