The Epiphany

Life is pain...
Anyone who tells you different is selling something.

Okay, so it's a movie line. But it's still true.

I'm really drunk, but I've just realized an ultimate truth.

These things don't reveal themselves every day. In Fact, they may only occurr once in a lifetime.

So here it is. I'm sharing it with you. Don't ever forget this. It will change your life.

Being born is the ultimate tragedy...

Another writing sample

Hello, all.

We're about to set off for our anual trek to the top of the state, then down to the bottom and back home again over the next three days. So I wanted to drop a quick post, just in case anybody was bored and had internet access (which I won't until we get back to civilization).

Here's another little piece I wrote. Actually, it's sort of a first page. I'm wondering if it's catchy enough. If it's strong enough to be the first page of an epic tale. Does it intrigue you?

I don't really have time to edit it again, so you're seeing the rough drafts. The names were pulled out at the spur of the moment. It's a work in progress. Tell me what you think...

Chapter 1

KRMMMMPHH!!

William landed on the ground with an explosion of air. Before he could even take a breath, Robert was all over him. The larger boy grabbed him from behind, snaking his arms inside William’s own arms and lacing his fingers behind William’s head. Robert stiffened his arms, locking William in a hold that he could only struggle vainly against.

“Do you yield?!” shouted Robert.

William tried desperately to break the hold. It was totally unfair. He knew he was the better fighter, but always Robert ended up on top. If only he had been a little older, a little taller, a little heavier, this wouldn’t happen every damn time.

“Alright, alright,” William conceded. “I yield.”

Robert laughed heartily and immediately released his grip. William slumped to the ground, breathing heavily, exasperated by once again losing to his older brother.

“Come on, Will, get up,” Robert extended a large hand and William grasped it firmly, hoisting himself up, weighted only slightly by his mail hauberk.

“I just don’t understand it,” Will moaned, “Why can’t I get the better of you? I have practiced every afternoon for a solid month, while you sit in on Father’s boring councils.”

Robert only chuckled. He knew he had a solid hand’s height on his younger brother, and easily that much in reach. Two more years of practice with the sword under the tutelage of Master Hardwick only added to his advantage.

“Don’t worry, Will. Someday you will be Warder of the Marches, galloping bravely across the frontiers, while is grow fat and weary on the throne, listening to councilors drone on about tax rates and tariffs.” Robert flashed a rueful grin, but Will was not so sure. All Master Hardwick, the master-at-arms of Castle Kamber, did was complain about the quality of William’s swordsmanship. He hated to even think of what the old master thought of his horsemanship and prowess with a lance. William couldn’t think of one good thing he had ever heard about his skill at arms.

Still, William, like his brother before him, had bested every opponent sent against him in his periodic trials. And Master Finley noted that William was as skilled as any of his predecessors when it came to history, literature, mathematics or the sciences.

And yet, each time his brother and he crossed blades—that is, the blunted practice blades that were all the princes of the realm were allowed to handle against each other—or when they faced off in the wrestling square, it was William who ended up with a mouthful of dust and a once-more dented pride.

But, in the end, it didn’t matter overmuch. William was confident that he would one day be a match for his brother.

They pair retrieved their weapons--blunted swords and bucklers--and headed off towards the armory. As they plodded wearily along, the setting sun warmed their backs through the padding and mail.

Robert dropped his arm heavily across his younger brother’s shoulders and chuckled.

“Don’t worry, Will, you’ll best me someday,” he said easily. “Of course, we’ll both be in our dotage, and the game will be who can produce the most drool.”

The two laughed loudly at this, Will elbowing his brother in the ribs as they entered the long, low building that housed the castle's arms and armor.

Riding the Drac

Here is the piece that I promised in the last post. If you want some explantion about what's going on, go here. Enjoy!

The beast strained against the ropes attached to its harness, clipped to either side of its muzzle and held by two stout men. They stayed well back from the talons on its powerful forelegs, and tried to stay out of the range of its long whipping tail.

Joc calmly walked up to the drac, making sure to maintain eye contact with the animal, which, until recently, was thought a thing of legend and myth. As he neared its head, he tried to keep his face stern and determined. The beast flared its nostrils as it caught the scent of him, and huffed a couple of short breaths out past its sharp teeth.

The drac’s eyes sparkled in the bright mountain sunshine like jewels at the bottom of a lake bed, a deep crimson flecked with bright spots of golden yellow and orange. It stared at him, as if judging him, looking through his eyes and into his very soul.

He came so close that his nose was almost touching the tip of the drac’s snout, and very slowly moved to put his hand on the side of its long, sinewy neck. The beast stilled itself, but he could feel the power, tensed and ready to spring, just below its leathery skin. And there was something else there, too. Excitement. Anticipation.

The drac was ready.

The handlers thought he was crazy when he reached up to either side of the beast’s snout and unclipped the retaining ropes. They were sure that the drac would immediately bolt, or worse yet, leap upon Joc and disembowel him with its talons.

But the animal didn’t budge. Its eyes were locked on Joc’s, and as he slowly moved along its left side, the head turned on the long neck to regard him with … eagerness.

For his own part, Joc wasn’t sure what to think. He could feel the anticipation within the drac, almost as if he had some deeper connection with the animal. His heart was beating firmly, but not rapidly, keeping time with the steady thump of the beast’s own heart, which he could feel as he ran his hand down its side.

Gently, he moved his left hand up and around, until it rested firmly on the right side of the drac’s neck, just forward of the large shoulder blade. He gave it an easy pat, then gathered the reins, and placed his right hand in the middle of the beast’s back, just behind the knot of muscle where the two powerful wings met.

How is this supposed to work, he wondered. With the wings folded against the drac’s side, he couldn’t just mount it like a horse, or he’d have the seemingly delicate wings trapped under his legs. Almost unconsciously, he began to rub the beast’s back, giving it a little scratch, the way he would have done with his favorite hunting hound. That was when the oddest thing happened.

The drac, which had still not broken eye contact with him, gave a little chirp, almost like a bird. It then settled back on its haunches and moved its wings outward.

Without thinking, Joc stepped back quickly, both to clear the wings, and because he thought the animal might be about to spring away from him and into the air. But the drac simply sat there on its haunches, waiting patiently and looking at him with those eyes, as if it knew exactly what he intended.

And maybe it does, thought Joc. It was, after all, a creature supposedly imbued with magical and mystical powers.

But it still acted alot like a bloody horse.

Forcing himself to move, pushing insane thoughts out of his head lest he think himself out of what he was about to do, Joc moved back to the beast’s side and, with a little jump, swung his right leg over the animal’s back, settling himself just behind the wings.

Immediately, the drac stood up, raising itself to its full height. Joc almost had to bite his lip to keep from crying out, but by gripping the reins and tucking his knees closely under the drac’s wings, he managed to keep his seat and made himself almost comfortable. Then, with a little bump from his heels, he started the animal into a slow walk.

It’s movement was odd. Not the clumping sway of a horse, but a smooth gliding motion, like that of monstrous cat. Joc almost didn’t feel it lift its feet and set them back down, so smoothly did it walk. Another little bump, and the creature started taking longer strides, moving into a kind of trot. Again, the ride was oddly smooth, the beast flowing along the rocks like water.

Joc was beginning to enjoy himself, settling into the animals movements and feeling like he was becoming one with the beast. And that’s when the next strange thing happened.

As it had begun walking, the drac had once more folded its wings against its side, almost gripping Joc’s legs, but not putting an unpleasant amount of pressure on them. In fact, the feeling was reassuring, since it kept him from feeling like he might lose his seat without a proper saddle. But then the beast looked back at him, its eyes twinkling with the sunlight. And something else. For a moment, Joc would almost have sworn the beast wore a bemused look.

And then his world took a sharp turn.

Suddenly lengthening its stride, the beast broke into a full gallop and turned towards a steep hill with an outcropping of rock at its crest. The large talons on the drac’s feet dug into the soil as it bounded up the hill, tearing away chunks of soil and dislodging rocks. It reached the pinnacle of the rock outcropping and, bunching its hind legs underneath itself, leaped off the rock and into open air. The drac’s wings unfolded to their full span, and with a few quick, powerful flaps, it rapidly gained altitude.

This was almost too much for Joc. He wrapped his legs as tightly as he could around the drac’s midsection, threw himself across its back and wrapped his arms around its neck. Each time the beast flapped its powerful wings, it surged forward and threatened to fly right out from under him.

At last, however, the drac seemed to reach its desired height and straightened its wings out to soar high above the rocky highlands. It canted slightly to the right and started a wide spiral, catching the updrafts and riding them like a gigantic raptor. Joc finally risked a look over his right shoulder and saw his men far below him, gazing up in amazement, pointing and yelling as they watched the young prince clinging to the back of this legendary creature.

After what seemed an eternity, Joc risked loosening his grip in the drac’s neck, raising himself up slightly and managing to catch the reins again, which had been flapping wildly over his head. And that’s when it struck him. He was flying!

All of the fear he felt was gone in an instant. He sat up straighter on the beasts back, though still keeping his knees tight against its sides, and looked around him. His hat was long gone, his long hair flowing back in the wind, his cape billowing out behind him. A chill began to work through his clothes, and he realized that his shirt and pants weren’t quite heavy enough for this kind of outing. He felt giddy.

It was really true. He was riding a drac. And the drac wasn’t trying to kill him. He thought he could almost read the animal’s mind, not picking up thoughts so much as just emotions. He had a feeling of happiness, of freedom, the love of the sky and the open air, the urge to soar higher and higher, to leave the earth and its cares far below. He would have to watch himself. These kinds of thoughts could be overpowering, and distracting.

He began to test the drac’s responsiveness to the reins he had in his hand. What he found, though, was the beast would not respond to his insistent tugging, either right or left. The animal just continued to soar, enjoying the feel of the air under its wings. Joc tried using the pressure of his knees, as he would to guide a horse while his hands were busy drawing a bow. He felt the animal respond a little bit, and a little more so when he leaned one way or another, but still it did not seem to acknowledge his physical commands.

Down, you stupid beast, I want to go down, he thought forcefully. And then wished desperately that he hadn’t. His stomach leaped straight up into his mouth as the drac dipped its head, folded its wings and dived like an arrow coming back to earth.

Joc couldn’t make a sound. All he could do was clench his teeth, as well as every other muscle in his body, as the drac dropped like a stone. The earth rushed up to meet him. His thoughts were scrambled with panic, knowing that he was about to die, until finally one thought coalesced and cut through all the insane fear.

UP!

Immediately, the drac responded. It’s huge wings spread once again, catching the air and slowing the descent, almost crushing Joc into its back. It pumped its wings and once again climbed towards the heavens, until it could catch another draft and soar.

Trying desperately to catch his breath and not either vomit, or worse, soil himself, Joc raised himself off of the drac’s back.

What the hell just happened there, he asked himself. Can the beast read my mind?

Perhaps it could. Or if not read his mind, then at least get a sense of what he wanted if he focused his thoughts correctly. Slowly this time, he began to form an idea in his mind. The sense of movement. He imagined himself and the drac circling slowly to the left.

To his amazement, he felt the beast shift its flight path, easing over to the right and beginning to circle back over the hills towards his men. Again, he formed a thought in his mind, this time wanting the drac to circle left.

With almost no hesitation, the beast did just this, easing over to the left, riding the winds like a feather. Joc began to laugh. This was more amazing than he could ever have imagined. The beast could actually understand his thoughts to a certain extent. He was enormously pleased. And as if to confirm all of this, the drac chirped happily, feeling his pleasure in this new found experience.

Over the next half an hour or so, Joc continued to test his skills with the animal, using his thoughts to direct its flight, learning the feel of the updrafts and downdrafts, learning how to move with the drac and becoming accustomed to its flight. At long last, he formed his thoughts into one final idea.

The drac eased its head down, not diving like an avenging angel this time, but gently losing altitude and spiraling down towards the meadow at the base of the hills. It soared low over the tall grass, the green blades whipping against its talons until they neared the crowed of men and animals staring at them in disbelief. Then it flared its wings, gave a couple of short flaps and settled lightly to the ground.

Writing practice

So, everyone needs a goal, right? I know I used to have goals. When I was in high school, it was to graduate Valedictorian. And I did.
When I was an undergraduate, it was to finish with honors. And I did, in two different areas.
When I was in graduate school, well, it was just to get out without looking like a total fool. And I did; for the most part.

But since then, I haven't really had much of a goal. I got a job. I married a wonderful woman. We bought a house... And now I don't know what to strive for, what to look forward to.

But I've had this dream. Okay, I've had several, but only one seems within my reach. I'm not going to sing on Broadway. I'm not going to win a Grammy. I'm not going to win an Oscar.

But there is one I can set my sights on that I might be able to achieve. A Hugo. And in the pursuit of that goal, I've begun trying to write more. (Yes, I know, it doesn't show in my number of blog entries.)

So I'm going out on a huge limb. I'm putting myself way out there this time. I'm going to give you guys a piece of my writing. I'm rather nervous about this, because my greatest fear is that I'm not really a very good writer, and this is all just a show. So this is my first true test. Granted, it's a small one, but there always has to be a first step.

This piece is a little vignette. It's really just an exercise in descriptive prose, trying to capture a scene with as much description as possible and bring the reader into my world, to let them smell the grass, feel the wind in their hair, and connect with the emotion of my characters. I had intended to make this part of a book, but the more I turn it over in my mind, the more derivative it seems. I don't think it has the originality to break any new ground, or even do something interesting on old ground. So it will probably just remain a practice run.

Anyway, I'll post it in the next post, and I'd appreciate your comments. Be honest. Not brutal, because I have a fragile ego. But honest. I'm putting my soul in your hands.

My holiday struggle

Ach!!

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

I know it's been, like, a month since my last entry but...well, I don't have an excuse. I just haven't been in the mood. And yes, I know moods are a thing for cattle and loveplay, but I still haven't been able to sit myself down behind my keyboard for long enought to put together a post.

But I'm trying. And I'll try not to bore you all.

So today I'd like to discuss my inner conflict regarding the holiday season. Okay, it's not really all of the holiday's so much as just Christmas.

Christmas used to be my absolute favorite holiday. I couldn't start it soon enough. It meant cool weather, lights, carols, lots of food, gifts, and time off from school. What could possibly be better? And I even felt this way after I got out of grade school. I just loved the season. I loved everything about the season.

But then I graduated college and had to become a grown up. And I started to realize why there were people in the world who utterly loathed the Christmas season. Things in my life became alot more complicated. I got married, which is of course wonderful, but which means I suddenly acquired in-laws. This means a doubling of the number of presents to buy, doubling the time and the cost; doubling the travel that must be undertaken, which gets worse because Michelle's parents are divorced.

You see, growing up, I never had to travel at Xmas. My parents, grandparents, aunt and cousins all lived on the same blacktop within walking distance of each other. That meant no roadtrips, no sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, no showering in a strange bathroom, no traffic, no security checkpoints.

But all of that has changed now. Now we travel to Houston for Thanksgiving, to Pittsburg for Christmas, and then to Houston again later to see the folks we missed at Christmas. And this year is even worse, because we have to make a round trip from Austin to Pittsburg to Beaumont to Houston and back to Austin. And the last three legs of that trip have to be made in a single day. The only high point of this whole insane trip is getting to see the Fireweaver in H-town, which only happens about once a year. Add to this the uncomfortable fact that I have to deal with my families guilt trip that I have strayed far, far away from my fundamentalist religious upbringing, and my friends, we have the icing on the shitty holiday cake.

But for all that, there are some still some wonderful things about the holidays. The Saturday night before Xmas, my family will all gather at my SILs house to exchange gifts. It's gotten alot more sane since we've moved to a secret santa type gifting program. I get to play with my adorable nephew, get to eat tasty treats, and get to sing carols and hymns with my whole family, which is a true gift for me, as singing was the only thing I ever really liked about attending the CofC. Plus, I'll get to spend several days outside of a city, enjoying the outdoors, I'll get to talk to my mother at length about books and cooking, and I'll get to sleep in a full sized bed, rather than a queen. (This is good because it means Michelle and I have to snuggle really close.)

So my stuggle goes on, to fight the bile that rises when I see crowds of people battling to see who can pour more cash into our conumer society, to fight the anger that comes with seeing a bunch of bible-thumpers go on and on about how Xtians are persecuted because they can't evangelize in every public space, and to fight the frustration and the urge to stomp on the gas and ram that minivan slowing down all the traffic on I-35.

Perhaps I'll win this year, and remember all the good things, and forget all the bad.

Michelle is helping. She's decided to do the whole twelve days of Christmas thing for me, even though I blew my whole budget for her on a couple of big gifts.

So, in the spirit of the season, here's the list of cool little gifts she's gotten me so far:
1. A tin of assorted Cadbury cookies. I absolutely ADORE Cadbury cookies. I really should have been born British.
2. An Office Calendar. As in The Office. The American version. I can't wait for January.
3. A copy of Pirates of the Carribbean: Dead Man's Chest. Kiera Knightly and Johnny Depp. What more needs to be said?
4. A large slotted-spoon and a large soup-ladle. Don't ask me how I've survived this long without these. I actually had to ladle stew with a coffee cup the other night.

And my favorite gift so far:
A 3-cup stovetop espresso maker. I don't know what it is, but I seem to have an affinity for things that make coffee and tea. In my kitchen, I have two coffee makers (the electric brew kinds), two different kinds of tea kettle, a beautiful brown betty English tea pot (finally found that in Fredericksburg), a french press and an espresso machine (I've only actually used that once, it's a pain in the ass to clean). And now I can add one more fun brewing device.

So I guess things are not all bad this holiday season. For those of you that I won't get to see, I send you love and warm wishes. Seasons Greetings, Happy Christmas, and have a wonderful New Year!