Rounding Them Out

As an author and a Game Master, making characters that leave an impression is important.  The deeper they are, the rounder they feel.  I drag them through the dirt, I’m not afraid to make them fail or seem weak, and watch them grow or change as a result (yes watch them. Author Problem #94: none of your characters do what you tell them).  So every character that contributes gets one of these platforms.  It fills them out.  Some, like Y’lenn and Amalia, get one for each installment as they change.  This is Y’lenn in the second story, Barrensoul.  A few spoilers, just a warning 😉

Name: Y’lenn Ebon
Nicknames/Titles: “Boss” “The Prodigy” “Number Forty-Eight”
Sex/Gender: Male
Age: 17
Ht: 5’11”
Wt: 112lbs
Hair: Platinum Blond
Eyes: Amber
Numerical Stats: Str: 16  Dex: 26  Con: 16  Int: 18 Wis: 8  Cha: 28
Distinguishing Marks: Medium horns, small claws, fangs
Parents: Lord Ebon raped a priestess named Sedna and ruined her life with a demonic blooded pregnancy.  He knew no love from the start.  A wizard named Morcius offered to buy him, but his mother told him to just take the boy.  He was abused and experimented on until he murdered Morcius and ran off.
Marital Status: Single
Significant Others: Y’lenn very firmly believes that relationships are for losers, especially after he got in a little over his head with a woman and she betrayed him in the worst way possible (he later raped and murdered her in cold blood).  He does however, like sex a lot and is often seen with one of his Epiphany members Salym.  Once Lolluka comes into play however, she dominates his attention in most ways.
Other Relatives: No word from his deceased mother, however it becomes apparent that Ebon’s children are a cult to Indira the Voidbringer all calling themselves by their birthright numbers.  They try to force Y’lenn to join them, and he promptly takes them over.  Lolluka his half-sister boldly asserts herself in incestuous acts with him, and being morally bereft, Y’lenn rolls with it.
Pets: Most animals are not fond of the smell of Esh.  However, he gains an intelligent crow named Priscilla to guide him along and spy on him on behalf of Kaeya.
Friends: He would be hard pressed to admit it, but he DOES have friends.  However, he only feels true loyalty towards long term established presences in his life, namely Jace, Deacon and Amalia.  When Reyson becomes Orin, at some point they take the Brother’s Oath (which he later rescinds). 
Enemies: Nicademus is still a thorn in Kitten’s side, so he feels obligated to pursue his destruction.  Vinadre and Y’lenn split in the worst way possible, and become mortal enemies.  Once the Shadow Legion betrays everybody, Kilgoran and Marosyth hit high on his shit-list.  Then there’s Blue, a criminal rival that goes out of her way to mock him.  His brother Ruja reeks havoc on Y’lenn’s parade, and earns a hatred from him greater than Illyana ever could by threatening to exploit his greatest fears.
Relationships: Like… romantic ones or squeezes?
Ethnicity: Eshling
Religion: Once he discovers his heritage, Y’lenn begins to barter with literal devils, playing both of Indira’s loyalties and becoming one of the primary leaders of the Voidbringer’s cult the Zycarr.
Beliefs: I don’t care how many bodies I have to step over to get to what I want.
Superstitions: Are stupid.  Greater meaning is silly.
Diction/Accent: Urban
Education: While under Morcius’ thumb, he was force fed a lot of knowledge regarding science, magic, math, religion, history and literature.  He dislikes knowing the answer, and pretends to be much dumber than he is.  Deacon took up his tutelage after he arrived at the Haven, but he proved ahead and bored, preferring to disrupt class than sit through it.
Employment History: Petty thief, mercenary, gang member, gang leader, Zycarra
Salary: Once the economy kickstarts after an 8 year hiccup, he rolls in the cash.  This quickly becomes irrelevant to him, as dark pacts in his blood bring him to more powerful positions.
Status/Money: Ends up controlling almost every coin in most economies on the material plane, begins expanding into other realities.
Own or Rent: Still a wanderer, unable to stay in one place until the very end where he ends up staying in The Citadel of the Void and operates from there and the Mother City Lorem.
Living Space: Pays other people to keep things clean for him, and gets mad if he can’t find something.  Still keeps the majority of what he owns on him.
Workspace: Offices that allow for large gang meetings, often involving heavy drinking and drug use, sometimes torture.
Main Mode of Transport: Once he obtains a multi-planar arrowhead and he gets used to inter-dimensional travel, teleporting is the way to go.
Fears: Intimacy is an understatement.  He is terrified to care.  So he pretends not to.  He slowly overcomes his fear of magic as his powers develop and he is coached to use them properly (out of spite).  Also not a fan of heights.  Boats not cool either.  Motion sickness is a bitch.
Secrets: He cares.  He wishes he didn’t.  Kaeya ended the world for his sake.  For a while, the locations of the Shards of Genesis and Oblivion. 
IQ: 165
Eating Habits: Booze is food, right?
Food Preferences: Booze.  Carbs.  Booze.
Sleep Habits: Passed out drunk or no sleep from uppers.
Book Preferences: Fiction and fantasy
Music Preferences: Sensual vocals
Groups or Alone: Either.  He likes to use his charisma to boss other people around, but if something needs to get done right he’s not afraid to do it himself.
Lead or Follow: Y’lenn is a natural leader and his assertiveness is contagious.  Or scary.
Planned or Spontaneous: NEVER thinks ahead.  This gets him into trouble ALL THE TIME.
Journal Keeper? Hell no, that’s evidence!
Hobbies: drinking, bar crawling, pranks, pretty women, reading, recreational drugs
How They Relax: vodka, redleaf, sex, oni
What Excites Them: tequila, sex, power, getting away with it, pushing the line, oni, eventually unwarranted murder
Pet Peeves: someone trying to control him, not being in control of his destiny
Prejudices: Y’lenn has a marked hatred for not only humans now, but anything without otherworldly blood.
Attitude: Oh, I’m sorry, you’re bleeding. How rude of me to let you suffer.  DIE.
Stressors: Abandonment, impulses to act kindly in front of others, acknowledging his feelings
Obsessions: Did we mention booze? And sex.  Power.  Getting high.
Addictions: Not just alcohol, but oni now too.  He overcomes the oni, but just barely.
Ambitions: King of the Multiverse.
As seen by others: charismatic, extroverted, witty, lacks common sense, violent, powerful, manipulative
As seen by self: god’s gift to women, the best at what he does, unstoppable however slightly conflicted; struggles with introspection at its peak.
Birthdate:June 21st
Time of Birth: 1am
Western Astrology Sign: Cancer;Ascendant: Leo
Western Astrology Traits: Assertive, Moody, Egotistical, Emotional, Selfish, Little self-control, Intuitive, Sharp,Witty
Handwriting: Terrible
Lefty/Righty: Ambidextrous
Sexual History: Ridiculously extensive
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual, Allosexual
General Health: Fair
Allergies: None
Chronic Illnesses: Weak stomach, strong enough Esh blood to have a reaction to White Mercury, Chemical withdrawal.
Handicaps: None
Objects Kept In:
Wallet: Coins, personal vouchers, Epiphany vouchers, Epiphany seal, razorblades
Backpack: Change of clothes (particularly of his alterego shape Nezra), 1oz redleaf, 8 grams oni, rope, tourmaline necklace, at least 3 bottles of hard liquor, crossbow and x30 bolts, Jace’s sewing kit, lock of Illyana’s hair, pieces of his victims so he can shapechange into them, lockpicks, waterskin, flintbox, x5 black sting, several 6mm cog-pistols, shotgun(ish)
Clothes: Strait-blades, Epiphany broach, planar arrowhead, tinderbox, pipe
Politics: I am the power behind every government.  Fear ME.
Flaws: Acts like an asshole, egotistical, narcissistic, manipulative, selfish, violent, explosive, chemically dependent, impulsive
Strengths: Intelligent, witty, charismatic, leader, resourceful, loyal AF, coercive, remorse (until the very end anyway)
Drugs/Alcohol: severe alcoholism, heavy redleaf, heavy oni, moderate anything else.
Prized Possessions: His strait-blades, Amalia’s tourmaline necklace, Illyana’s hair, Mask Number One.

featured art by shinekonoyaro and kaisuki on Deviantart

Snippets and Pieces

Well, uh… after my lovely rant on porn, I’d like to get back on the topic of fantasy.  Writing it in particular.  One of my current projects closer to completion is a two-part epic called Heathersoul and Barrensoul.  Set in a land with advances in culture similar to the dark ages coming into the renaissance age, where magic holds various power and influence over the lands and its secrets can cause great enlightenment or diabolical corruption.  So there is a mystery/drama element to it, but there is also comedy, action/adventure, political, spiritual concepts as well as a touch of troubled romance.  You’ve already seen images of some of the characters on the sight, so allow me to introduce them to you in their element:

***

“Land Ho!”

“Finally…” Amalia breathed, rising from her railing seat and stretching the stiffness from her neck and spine. The past three days had been quite boring. Reyson had resigned himself to the corner of the cafeteria, scribbling in his ragged leather bound book, but she just couldn’t handle the smell of the crowd of slaves that clearly didn’t bathe more than a few times a month, if that. Trying to keep track of Y’lenn was like trying to strain salt from seawater—half the time not even Jace knew where he was. She decided that so long as he was alive and didn’t endanger the welfare of anyone else, she was satisfied with not knowing what he was up to.

Something she came to regret, of course.

“I’ve… never seen the captain act like that in my entire life…” Stephen said, scratching his head. “Two days later and I still can’t believe it.”

“Why do you put up with that abusive nonsense?” Amalia asked him. “That kind of behavior is unacceptable.”

Stephen sort of looked out to the spec of land at the end of the strait that was now visible a bit wistfully. “I don’t bear the mark because I’m human, but that doesn’t make me any less his slave.”

“You can’t own people,” Amalia insisted firmly.

“You know he lost his family to non-humans in the war?”

“… No.”

“They were butchered quite mercilessly while he was in the military. You can imagine his distrust of his very own crew afterwords. Most of the humans left his service because he kept them after the legislation passed. I stayed.”

“Why?”

“I owe him my very life. Trust me when I say he doesn’t hate me or any of us.”

“I find that very hard to believe.”

“Miss Seaflame, is it so hard to believe that things are not so black and white? Does it always have to be about good and evil? I’ve come to the conclusion that you yourself are not human, but I don’t find you evil at all. Yet you are clearly capable of evil acts—especially that Esh descendant, but you’ve done no harm to me. I am human—am I evil to you?”

“Hm,” was all she said after a moment.

By noon they were anchored in the harbor and ready to disembark. Ohbron stopped Y’lenn with a malicious suspicion on the way out. “You didn’t have that sack when you waltzed your filthy feet onto my boat.”

“Is it a crime to carry a bag in Shendosa?” he asked in an almost mocking tone.

“What’s in the sack?”

“None of your business.”

“Y’lenn…” Amalia sighed. “Don’t be difficult… if you stole something, just return it and make life easier for all of us…”

“STEAL?!” he demanded. “Why Amalia, I’m offended that you would imply such a thing!! Me? Steal??”

“What’s in the damn bag, Y’lenn?” Reyson sighed.

“Purchased goods, thank you very much!”

“Prove it,” Ohbron growled. “Or I’ll lock you up so fast you won’t have time to wipe that disgusting smirk of your face. Mind you this is a Rajeran occupied port. I will turn you in.”

Y’lenn made a show of being miffed, then opened the sack that clinked and jangled with every movement. In it was enough hard liqueur to last him a year given the size of the bag. “See?”

“You dirty thief, you dare raid my shelves?!” Ohbron began, that vein beginning to rise under his temple again.

“Thief? Thief?! I bought these, you accusatory bastard!! Just ask Algharf!!”

Ohbron glared at his kitchen-keep and the Durg-blooded nodded. “Hard coin, sir. Kid was loaded the whole time. Iffit weren’t for him, I don’t think we coulda restocked so quickly.”

Ohbron scowled. “Good riddance, you filthy lot. You’re lucky I was paid so finely to cart your blasphemous hides across the strait—ah!”

He held his head in pain, Stephen moving to steady him but being brushed aside. “Are you alright, sir?”

“Migraine is all… get outta my sight you lousy heathens…”

“The feeling is mutual…” Amalia told him, exchanging a knowing smile with Reyson, the glow in her eyes fading.

“Clearly he doesn’t know the meaning of ‘heathen,’” Reyson muttered as they stepped off onto the docks. He gave Y’lenn a hard look as he slouched and immediately seemed to strain under the weight of his hefty purchase. “Should have thought about carrying all that alcohol before you bought it.”

“Heh…” he chuckled, shifting the weight over his shoulder. “I’m not that stupid.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see. Jace, help me out, man.”

Jace hefted the bag up and seemed surprised at how heavy it was. “Holy crap, buddy—planning a party?”

“You could say that…”

“And where did you get the money for all that god-awful stuff?” Amalia asked, having a feeling she knew the answer.

“I creatively and dexterously acquired it.”

“You stole it.”

“You and this… STEALING theory of yours…”

“Just… ugh. Just keep your hands to yourself while we’re here—at least until this recon fiasco is over with. If we get stopped, let me do the talking, will you?”

“Sure. You do the blabby, I do the stabby.”

“There will be NO stabby.”

“LAAAAAAAAME.”

Port Kellona was more of a fort, as Rajera had acquired it from Shendosa and was using it to push further east and south. Militia overran the place, which made them all uncomfortable to a degree. There was even a stonewall facing the harbor, making entry impossible not to notice. The gates were well fortified and observed. Amalia thought of it as disgusting. Y’lenn liked to think of it more as a challenge.

Predictably, a man in silver full-plate approached them with a lion etching on the left breastplate almost as soon as they were off the docks. They paused for him, and he nodded to each of them. “Amalia. Y’lenn. Reyson. Jace,” he addressed.

They all exchanged a glance. Amalia nodded. “Can we assume you’re with the Order of the Lion?”

“Indeed. We have a meeting scheduled for tomorrow morning. Come with me.”

“Why always morning?” Y’lenn grumbled.

“Oh stop whining,” Amalia told him. “You can get into trouble AFTER we’re done here.”

“We can only offer so much protection,” the Knight told them as they walked the crowded streets. “This city is ten times worse than Azenra, so keep your faces and your appearances to yourselves. You will be attacked under the slightest suspicion.” He glanced at Jace. “Best find a leash for him.”

“Yeah… a leash,” Y’lenn teased.

“You keep your hood up—given what Ohbron told us, I don’t think it would take much for you to be lynched.” They approached a flat building with only thin slots for windows off of a filthy alleyway. He began to unlock deadbolts with a set of keys then led them into a barely furnished and cramped suite. “We cannot be held responsible for your irresponsibility, so for your own safety, please stay indoors as much as possible.”

“Are you implying that we’re irresponsible?” Amalia demanded curtly. Reyson elbowed her and gestured to Y’lenn and Jace. She cleared her throat.

The Knight either ignored her or had no answer. He handed the keys to Amalia and saluted. “Consider this your headquarters for now. We expect to see you at the Lion’s Hall an hour past dawn.” With no other explanation, he left at a brisk pace.

Reyson made a face and scuffed a bit of loose ash from the filthy fireplace—if one could call it that. “This just keeps getting better and better…”

“Bag,” Y’lenn ordered quickly, reaching for it. Jace hefted it over to him, and Y’lenn dumped it out, bottles and flasks clanking everywhere. However, there wasn’t even half as much drink as it had externally appeared. In the mess of alcohol was a very small being that tumbled out gasping for air.

“Fat lot of luck that was!” he cried. “I’m never doing that again!”

Amalia gawked and Reyson’s jaw dropped. “You smuggled a SLAVE off the BOAT?!”

“Eh. You give you take,” Y’lenn said with a shrug as he helped his new friend to his feet, brushing lint and dirt from his sweaty shoulders. “Cog here’ll be helping me with a few engineering projects, won’t you?”

Cog made a mock salute. “Sure am, my quarter demon friend! Freedom is sweet, yessir!”

“Are you CRAZY?!”

Y’lenn gave Amalia a very hard look. “You can’t own people, Amalia.”

Amalia opened and closed her mouth, unsure how he found her words and used them against her. “Are you trying to get us arrested? Killed?!”

“Prison and stake outs are for losers,” Y’lenn scoffed. He gestured to his new posse. “And clearly, we have won.”

“Yeah, for now,” Reyson warned. He took his book from his bag and started towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Amalia asked. “The Order of the Lion can’t protect us, it’s dangerous.”

“I’m human,” Reyson told her. “I’m going to go get the lay of the land—see what faces and names come up. If this is going to be our headquarters, I want to know what’s in every direction a mile from here.”

“I’ll come!” Y’lenn cried, jumping up.

“No, I’LL go,” Amalia corrected. “At least I look human. None of you could pass for human without a lot of magic, which we are sorely lacking.”

“But…but… there are bars to be ransacked…!”

“Dude, you just BOUGHT a bar,” Jace reminded him.

“It’s alright, Master Y’lenn,” Cog told him, starting a fire with a set of billows. “I can tell you how my great-great grandfather Ulysses was the first Jodari to travel to the Maho Wastes to the far, far east—”

Y’lenn got that cute and innocent begging look on his face. He even trembled his lip to try and get Amalia to take him with her, but to no avail. Her face was carved of stone; her arms affixed in a crossed position across her chest.

“It’s not safe, Y’lenn, otherwise I wouldn’t trust you alone.”

“For the love of the gods, if you obey one request in your life it’s this—stay inside tonight, please,” Reyson begged. “It’s moronic to try and tell you guys what to do, but seriously, Amalia’s right.”

“Tch,” was his final reply, which was as close to an affirmative as anyone could pry from him.

“Might I request a new set of clothes and a jeweler’s tool kit?” Cog piped up. “If it’s not too much trouble, ma’am?”

“Of course, Cog. Call me ma’am again, I’ll make sure you’re on the streets by dawn.”

Reyson shook his head vigorously at Cog behind her back with a “knock-it-off” motion and pretended to scratch his ear when she turned to join him out the door. “Don’t do anything stupid,” was his final request as they left.

Jace turned and looked to Y’lenn, who had just finished laying out every single bottle of alcohol he had bought with his ill-earned funds across the rickety wooden table. It filled the entire surface. He sat there and looked at it for a minute. “Wow.”

“Wow,” Jace echoed.

“Big score man.”

“No kidding. What are we going to do with it all??”

Y’lenn got a sly, fanged grin on his mischievous, pale face. “There is only one thing to do.”

“Are you serious??” Cog asked in amazement.

“LIQUOR PARTY!” Y’lenn and Jace slammed their heads into each other’s then scrambled to claim dibs on what looked most intoxicating. Cog was handed bottles that were almost as large as he was, and bewildered, he witnessed and eventually joined what the duo called a “tox-fest.” This involved an elaborate system of drinking games, sobriety tests (the worse the fail the better), mixology and the lack of memory of most of it the next day.

***

This of course, is still when Amalia is an insecure bitch and Y’lenn’s antics don’t involve killing people yet.  Eventually, their ideals diverge and it becomes harder for them to work together.  Which of course, is exactly the tension i want to convey in later chapters.  If y’all enjoyed it, I will happily post more.  Constructive criticism is welcome, but keep in mind this is an isolated chapter among many, and the full scope of the picture is not captured in this snippet alone.

Happy to share! Enjoy your week, y’all!

featured image by anikakinka on Deviantart.com

Top 10 No Bullshit Ways to End Writers Block

One of the most debilitating of all conditions a writer or artist can suffer is “Writer’s Block” or sometimes just a “Block.”  Creatives can go months or even years without doing anything productive with their work, which in my experience, sucks harder than a desperate prostitute.  Working on transforming what I see in my mind to the page or canvas or whatever, is the thing that brings me most joy, so when I don’t do it, I suffer.  No joke (when I can’t get a group together for Dungeons and Dragons for long periods, I get my mega-bitch pants on).

SO!  Here is Synesthesia’s certified top ten No Bullshit proven methods to get your creative juices on (insert panty joke here)

10: SETTING: I am a firm proponent of a vibrational universe. My interests are keen when it comes to the nature of the universe and I enjoy entertaining thoughts about string theory, magick and collective consciousness.  It has been my experience that creating “sacred space” drastically improves where you aim your thoughts.  At the very minimum, change the space to accommodate the mood you are trying to get into.  Light candles or some shit.  Play the right music (see MUSIC). I get even more specific.  Set the mood as you would for a date with your subject.  In my case, it’s usually with my characters. If I were writing about Y’lenn for example, I would be listening to Slipknot (or Drowning Pool… or Nine Inch Nails) and burn black, blue or red candles (chapter pending).  But if I were writing about Amalia for example, I’d be switching it up to Avril Lavign (or Kelly Osborne… or VNV Nation) and burning sandalwood incense.  Change your desktop background to a slideshow of images that remind you of what you’re working on.  Remove yourself from the mundane world as much as possible.

9: SLEEP. I don’t know about you, but when I’m beat, the last thing I want to do is be creative (unless I’m playing table top games.  I’ve been quoted saying “I would play on my deathbed!”).  Being well rested is critical to clear thinking.  I remember writing a whole dialogue groggy from a hard day, looking at it the next morning and saying, “What the fuck…?” and trashing it.

8: BRAIN FOOD: When I go shopping, I always include a small budget for “Brain Food.”  For me, this is largely junk food (Diet Pepsi and Hostess Cakes are my inner fat girl’s favorite).  This kind of food is my go-to reach over and sustain my basic needs while I’m imprinting my soul on my work kind of stuff.  As you can imagine, this is all-consuming, and I need optimal carbs and caffeine readily available.  Stuff that’s real bad for me is the most pleasing, but if you’re trying to cut calories and chemicals, try healthy alternatives like trail mix or seltzer water.  But I gotta be honest, in order for this to stay No Bullshit certified, I must admit the worse the snack is for you, the better you’ll feel in the mood to create.

7: RECREATIONAL DRUGS: If you came here hoping for a politically correct guide it would render it 80% ineffective.  I’m real with you, but that doesn’t mean I’m an exemplary member of society (if you’re a creative, would you really want to be?).  I’m also not encouraging you to do something illegal and get caught, but the Goddess honest truth is some of my best ideas came to me while under the influence of marijuana or psilocybin.  As an addict in recovery, I acknowledge the dangers of using this route to pick the recesses of my brain, but one thing I have learned in all my dances with substance is the reasons why I abused them, and the reasons I have used them to better my health and mind.  Some traditionalists will toot the horn, “There is no such thing as moderation,” and for most who cannot emotionally mature enough, this is true.  The mentality is that the risk is not worth it.  Creatively, I can assure everyone that the risk HAS been worth it for me.  It’s still risky, but in order to better my mind I am willing to take that risk when I have experienced a plethora of positive results.  So am I pro-drug? Yes and no.  But this list is about what gets me out of a writer’s block, and it’s the No Bullshit certified truth when I tell you that a bowl jumped me right out of that funk at the right times.

6: SIDE PROJECTS: “Fuck this, fuck you, fuck him, fuck her, FUCK EVERYTHING.” This attitude is very easy to slip into when one is stuck.  Even moving onto other chapters, even rearranging dialog, even editing… it’s hopeless.  I can’t move forward with this material anymore and I’m just so sick of it!! Relax.  Breath.  Here, watch this: “Fuck That.”  Time to funnel creative energies into something else for a while.  It’s like changing the scenery for a bit, which any creative will tell you can be really helpful.  Put what your working on DOWN and work on something else, even if it’s just a fanfic (see FANFICTIONS).  A fresh set of souls to manipulate to my will (uh… I mean my characters I’m writing about) in a new setting is refreshing, trust me.

5: MUSIC: What better way to alter your consciousness than with music! Science proves this (SCIENCE!!).  I get very specific with the kind of music I’m listening to when I’m trying to be creative.  I have this silly tic that if I’m listening to just an artist or a song off of a particular album (without a playlist order), I must listen to the entire album IN ORDER.  It’s a silly tic, and for that reason if I am writing, I make playlists catered to the project, sometimes down to the individual characters.  Y’lenn’s is over three hours long, but that’s three hours in his mindset, feeling the motive behind him rather than guessing at it based on his previous actions in other chapters.  The place in my heart where I feel the music is the same place where all my stories and creations come from.  What I play is how I write.

4: STRESS: How can I possibly write when everything is going so wrong?! My ex is dragging me through a custody battle! I might be evicted next month if I can’t pay rent!  I’m going through a crushing break up right now!  My loved one is dying/dead!  Hold up. See this image?

The key concept of this meme is to channel your stress into your project.  Feel hatred for someone or something? Describe it through the eyes of a character that hates.  Frustrated? A rounded character has a gamut of negative and positive emotions as well as the signature one or two that defines them.  Make someone pissed and weave it right in.  Take stock in every stressful (and amazing! don’t forget the good!) experience in your life and describe it in excruciating detail through the lens of your project.  This is not only good for your writing, but epic for mental health.  A classic example of this is how J.K. Rowling took her crippling depression and turned them into the soul-sucking, happiness-eating Dementors.  Turn the shitty moments into something moving that a reader or viewer can truly relate to.  It obviously works.

3: FANFICTION: What?! Another controversial subject?! Syn, you bad blogger!  Some authors condone it (like J.K. Rowling) and others condemn it (like Anne Rice).  I personally love it to pieces.  It’s creative masturbation, because you will never make money off of it, but it does feel good, and it hones your skills while harmlessly dangling other people’s characters out on your whims.  Best of all, there is tons of feedback from the fan community (a bit of hate if you’re skills aren’t snuff or delving into erotica, which is actually more common than you’d think). You don’t even have to share any of these crazy ideas you put someone else’s universe though! (though it does help to get feedback, even if the fandom sucks).  It is an amazing exercise to get into the head of a character that someone else already laid the groundwork for in personality.  Staying canon is a challenge sometimes!  Let it be known here that any of my published works are welcome to get the fanfic treatment, even if I think you’re insane for ever thinking that Y’lenn and Jace would hook up in a million years.

2: IDLING: Despite our best efforts, nothing comes.  We are utterly dry of ideas.  Hopelessly stuck.  Here is when you can use the time you waste effectively.  While you’re scrolling through Facebook instead of brainstorming, visit some art or creative pages.  Read articles about the things you are creating.  I highly recommend Deviantart (where a huge stock of my featured images come from).  Watch TV and movies that inspire you (some of my favorites are Penny Dreadful, Howl’s Moving Castle and Firefly/Serenity [ironically a deceased pair of series…].  FINE I’LL SAY IT *looks over shoulder and grumbles softly*: Game of Thrones). Play video games, but not the kind that have you mindlessly farm like World of Warcraft or Farmville.  Play things with story; things that have substance (my favorites are Undertale, Dragon Age and of course the love of my life, Final Fantasy VII).  Read the classics that inspired you to write in the first place (Lord of the Rings, A Wrinkle in Time and Harry Potter).  Visit a museum or the local Historical Society.  My personal favorite way to come up with new material: table top roleplay (won’t rant about that… yet…)

1: TIME.  I hear this from EVERYBODY who takes writing seriously.  Set time aside EVERY DAY to write (or art!).  Plaster an alert on your phone.  Work with your schedule.  Some people are fresher at 7am (unholy beasts from what I can tell.  At least drown yourself in coffee at that hour…), some at 9pm (NIGHT OWLS UNITE!), some can only get work done on their lunch hour (poor, sad things).  Some even place a timer for a mandatory minimum time to creatively ejaculate.  As is with sex (in women anyway), I don’t “get off” every time I sit down and type, write or art, but it still feels good.  And even if it’s a struggle, do everything you can to pop that creative mojo Viagra (please gods when I get enough subs to advertise let Viagra flash on my page. Amen).  See SETTING.

I hope this helped! Next week I will be doing a Nostalgia Review on an older work of fantasy, which includes (but is not limited to) books, movies/TV, games or other inspirational work.  If you have a request for a Review (doesn’t necessarily have to be nostalgia [+5 years old]), hit that Contact button!  I’ll toss it in my schedule!

KEEP CREATING!

featured image by parororo on Deviantart

The Best of a Shitty World

Man, I was not expecting to get the blog going with a current event like Orlando hanging over everyone’s head.  It always breaks my heart to hear about tragedies like this, and then having the media twist it around to a political problem.  In a way, it is, but there seem to be a lot of reports being used to advance an agenda, and that is just sick.

It’s times like these that makes me wonder what I can do personally to help make the world a better place.  As a writer, making a statement veiled in my work (Orwell is one of my favorite authors that achieved this) is what makes a tale timeless.  And sometimes it’s like a secret code, encrypted with character and plot.  The ones I want to hear me will see, the ones who resonate the strongest with the message will know.  I’m not good at marching in protests, nor am I good at convincing politicians to fix a broken system.  But I am good at writing, and what I can do is convey a message that I hope inspires people.  What I really want someone to do after reading something of mine is to introspect.  That was a complicated choice that character made, you think.  Would I have done the same in his situation?

What guides our morals as humans is how we interact with each other.  For better or worse, our interactions have consequences, and those consequences are either deemed good or bad by others, depending on how much of the situation they know.  As more variables are presented, morality becomes grayer and grayer.  Until at some point down the line, the action is justified by someone.  My job as a writer is to weave a character’s personality so tight that I would know what any of them would do in any given situation, and when that gray area justifies something.  Characters should never be purely black and white, just like people aren’t.  Some people are sick, and the justification for something heinous comes early.  Some people are greedy, which also brings the threshold forward.  Any number of moral or immoral traits move that line around in the fog of justification.

The governments in almost all of my fantasy work are often corrupt on some level.  The system works, but it is deeply flawed in some way.  Writers often write what they know best, and this is what I have come to know about the Powers That Be in my country.  I am more and more ashamed to be an American and becoming ashamed of being a human being lately.  If an alien landed right in front of me and asked me to take him to my leader, the first words out of my mouth would be, “Oh, uh… I’m not with them.”

I love figuring people out.  It makes creating tangible characters fun.  When I see tragedies on the news like this, my first thought is, “What brought them to the point where they thought what they were doing was right?” When I ask those kind of questions about people, my characters become richer as a result.  So though there is no doubt in my mind that the events over this weekend were wrong, terrible and a disgrace to my race and country, I can take away a sense of what true villainry is.

Maybe I could pass on a more positive way of dealing with that kind of villain.

featured art by amanda1442069 on Deviantart

Stranger: Nice to meet you. Me: Give it time

It is every creative soul’s greatest desire to share what they see with you.  To immerse you in it the way we are.  Some do this with writing, others doing it by painting, photography and other endless forms of art.  This is especially true in the fantasy genre, where things happen that could never be real in mundane life.

Fantasy to me is a safe place in my mind, a place where anything can happen.  Mind you, my stories rarely have happy or perfect endings, but there is an aspect of creating the world to my fancy that is thrilling to me.  I fuel this fire many ways, writing short stories, longer projects like novels, writing articles, painting, photography and my favorite, role playing games that test my creativity like table top d20 Dungeons and Dragons or d10 systems like World of Darkness.  My adventure so far has filled me to the brim with inspiration, and man am I anxious to share what’s inside my head.  Being a Game Master has allowed me to escort people to another realm and bring them to awe and wonder at the impressive (and sometimes downright quirky) details.  I want to not just do that to five or so people at at time, but the world as well.  You know that really sweet goosebumpy feel after you’ve had a brilliant idea or experienced something moving? I want to share that rush I get with everyone I can, like any good story can do.  I have brought people to tears (I brag about that a lot haha), I have made people laugh but best of all I have made people think.

I was told by my mother to do something that brings me joy with my life.  Well this is it.  You bring me joy by reading what I write, seeing it the way I see it, and being moved by what you see.  I love feedback, good and bad, as long as it is constructive (a professional way of saying easy on the hate, bro) and thrive on interaction with others of creative mind or had an opinion on what I’ve written.  The way I evaluate my work is by how people react.  I’ll take anything but “Meh, it was alright.” If I’ve made you feel, I’ve accomplished my goal.

All those wonderfully written words… it’s going to crumble down to crude wit and outright strangeness after a while, I just know it.  Please note that I am highly unpredictable, as are most writers, and I’ll be just as likely to post an article on the latest fantasy genre related thing out or a random name generator link as a webcomic that perfectly describes my mood (i read strange shit… cyanide and happiness if you care for a flavor).  Yes, I drop the F-bomb.  A lot.  Click that Twitter link, I dare you (you’ll find out just what kind of drugs I’m on!).  Sounded very classy a few paragraphs ago, didn’t it? I’ll quote one of my many characters (you’ll meet them all!) Y’lenn:

“I lied.”

featured image by Toonikun on Deviantart