Prepping for (re)release…

Okay, so what I really need to do, now that the trilogy remaster is underway, is to start selling it. I’ll be honest, I’ve been a bit lazy in that respect over the last couple of titles, but it’s clearly obvious that run it up the flagpole and see who salutes follows with but no one ever does.

When I first released A Division of Souls in 2015, I went the extra mile and found myself a few avenues to self-promote, and it did reasonably well for a little while. In this case, I have a few ideas that might work, or at least might push the novel where it needs to go to be seen. Perhaps utilizing Publisher’s Weekly‘s ‘Booklife’ section which focuses on self-published titles, for instance.

I suppose the worry is how much it’ll cost, but if I play my cards right and understand what avenues I’m working with, I can definitely pull of a least a small percentage of wider attention and keep it within a modest budget. Considering I’m doing this all DIY, I’ve always kept in mind that if I can take care of certain parts on my own (such as the cover layout and whatnot), then I’ll do it to save money.

In the meantime, I’m looking forward to seeing who enjoys the new and updated version!

Back to widescreen

I’ve been doing yet another reread of Theadia lately, and aside from the fact that the story hits a little close to home in terms of the current political climate (granted, it was started around the same time as the back end of the Fuckwit’s previous administration, so no surprises there), I think it holds up rather well. Considering I’d spent the last few years writing and releasing novels where the the focus was mainly on the characters and utilizing minimal settings, I wanted to return to the widescreen feel of big cities and large crowds.

I was worried that I’d forgotten how to write such things to be honest. I had to remember how I’d pulled it off with the Bridgetown Trilogy: the population had to frequently be a part of the story, whether directly or indirectly. With Theadia, the inspiration I chose for this was the numerous protests and marches that took place between 2017 and 2021, and again recently. What kind of story would I have to write where the main characters’ drive is the same as the citizens where they live? They couldn’t be keyboard warriors, but they couldn’t rely on blissful ignorance in hopes that their problems would go away either. The drive of every character is in the repeated line: if you could…would you do the right thing? I had to give them ability to go against authority, but I also had to give them personal reasons to do so.

This is the kind of story that’s more than just about the main characters, that’s for sure. With the Bridgetown Trilogy, the main characters were essentially the glue that held the Awakening of the One of All Sacred from falling into disarray, and their drive was to ensure that happened…but their personal drive was to ensure that Denni survived it all.

Theadia follows this in its own way, in several different ways: Althea’s refusal to let outside influence ruin her life, Claudia’s deep sense of family and community, Dani’s distrust of those in charge who should not be, Maris’ anger towards those deliberately driving high command into chaos, and so on. That’s the kind of widescreen thinking I needed to use for a story like this.

It’s exhausting to write, sure, but it’s also exhilarating and one of my favorite styles.

Deep dive

That’s what I’ve been calling it lately: the process I used when originally writing the Bridgetown Trilogy. And it all started because I felt I hadn’t gone far enough with The Phoenix Effect.

By the time I was writing True Faith in 1995, I felt I at least had gotten the hang of the science fiction genre, and had gotten even further two years later with TPE, but at the same time I knew there was something wrong. There didn’t seem to be any issue with the universe I was creating, and I definitely felt that writing dialogue was one of my stronger creative traits…but it still felt off.

It didn’t take me long to figure out that it was the prose itself.

The problem was that my novel didn’t sound like one. It sounded more like an extremely detailed outline. And that had always been a problem with my work then…I thought I had some really neat ideas, but I was definitely failing in the execution of them. There was plenty of action, but my novel read more like a descriptive ‘A happens, B reacts, C happens, D causes a shift, etc.’ and less of an actual story. I resonated deeply with this tale about underground hackers, spiritual magic and otherworldly kinship…but none of that resonance was coming through at all.

So by 2001 or so, while working on TPE‘s revision and slogging my way through its sequel and getting nowhere, I realized that I needed to do something about it. I wanted to do better. I needed to do better. So one afternoon I decided I was going to completely rewrite it. I mean, start from scratch. Tell the whole dang story from Nehalé’s awakening ritual to the end, and do it right.

The only way I knew how to do this at the time was to do a deep dive. Instead of writing in that old outline style, I was going to make damn sure that every single scene resonated with me. It was a bit like method acting, to be honest: become the novel. Figure out why Nehalé did what he did. Understand the actions and reactions of Caren and Poe and everyone else. And don’t just be flippant about it; those actions and reactions were also part of the story, because it was who they were, and the consequences of their actions were also part of it.

By the time I’d gotten about five or six chapters in on this new version, I’d realized I’d only gotten through maybe two chapters of The Phoenix Effect, and this was EXACTLY what I’d been aiming for. So I just kept going, and eventually wrote myself an almost complete trilogy by the spring of 2005.

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I bring this up now for two reasons:

One, after completing and self-publishing the Bridgetown Trilogy, I knew I had more to learn. I could definitely write doorstop epic novels at that point, now I wanted to prove to myself that I could ‘write econo’ (hat tip to The Minutemen, heh), so I started writing much shorter standalones. I’m quite proud of them all, especially Diwa & Kaffi, which I still feel is my best book to date. Even despite the urge to write the fourth book in the Mendaihu Universe, I wanted to stick with shorter works until I felt confident enough.

Two, it was the writing of the still-unfinished Theadia that made me realize that perhaps I was ready to do another one of those deep dives. This is another book I resonate deeply with…and like the trilogy, another book I feel isn’t quite there yet because it too needs a deep dive. Over the course of 2024 I tried the rewrite method, but somehow it still doesn’t feel complete yet. I still haven’t gone deep enough.

Fast forward to January 2025 and I’m focusing on the Trilogy Remaster and also revisiting the several sounds and words that surrounded its original writing, and I’m struck by another resonance that I’d almost forgotten about: this was how deep I’d gone with the trilogy! It had become a part of my life then, socially and creatively, and I loved every minute of it, and that was something that had been missing from my writing life for far too long, even before the revival of the trilogy in 2009.

As I’d mentioned briefly in last week’s blog entry, I feel I’ve come full circle, having learned several things along the way, and now I’m ready to cast the anchor and say this is where I belong. This is the style I love the most, yet it’s a style I haven’t allowed myself to return to. Or more to the point, I’d almost completely forgotten how to get back there in the first place, and it took several things falling perfectly into place for it to return.

Does this mean that my future novels are going to be epic in length? I can’t answer that because other than MU4 and Theadia, I don’t know where my next ideas might come from. But I can safely say that those two projects, at least, will be a return to the deep dive.

Revisiting Bridgetown…?

The Trilogy Remaster continues on schedule (slightly ahead, actually) and I’ve been allowing myself to revisit the created world as I approach each scene. In the past I may have been one to react with ‘oh yeah, I wrote this one in the Belfry on a super cold winter night while listening to Sea Change‘ or something like that, but this time out I’ve been asking myself: why did I write this scene? Not in a pessimistic way, mind you (those would have an oh gods before the question, heh). I’m asking it in reference to the story as a whole.

Which is kind of interesting, considering that most of this trilogy was semi-pantsed. While I had a pretty good idea of what direction I wanted the story to go in, I never planned ahead more than maybe three or four chapters. However, that was part of the creative process I had at the time: my focus was on the evolution of the characters, and how their interactions provided the actions (or reactions) that followed. The story wasn’t just about the reincarnation of a deity, it was about how different people reacted to that. And that was something that had been set in stone since 1997 when I started The Phoenix Effect.

I think that’s partly why I found it so hard to get MU4 going for the longest time (ten years, coincidentally!), because I’d forgotten about that part of this story’s creation. So….if I’m going to revisit Bridgetown once more, I can’t just write a NextGen-style story. It has to have its own focus on character evolution. And just like the original trilogy, I already know what needs to happen. I just need to figure out how its events will affect the cast. It may take time, but I’m willing to work for it.

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As an aside, please note that the writing of this post was temporarily interrupted by Jules who demanded my attention.

Trilogy Remaster: slow but steady

So it’s been a few days since I’ve started the revision work on A Division of Souls, and it’s going a lot smoother than I’d expected. I mean, I’m so familiar with the trilogy at this point that I know exactly what I was trying to do with it. I’ve mainly been tightening up the prose, changing up a few words where I get repetitive, and occasionally breaking up long paragraphs to fix the pacing. And fixing one thing that always bothered me since its first release: that first chapter (Nehalé’s awakening ritual that starts the story) is actually a prologue, so I labeled it such.

So what does it look like so far? Well, I’m about halfway through chapter one (formerly chapter two, where we first meet Caren and Poe, along with several of the other important characters), and I’m fascinated by how easy it was to make only slight changes to make it fit my current writing style. I was most of the way there already, I think — by the time 2015 rolled around, the novel was a decade and a half old and I’d been rereading it multiple times for at least three years. But I’m quite happy with how it’s working out so far, and at this rate I should most likely hit my re-release deadline!

Meanwhile, and semi-related to the book, this showed up on my YouTube feed and it’s quite amazing. Hayley Williams has always said Failure was a huge influence on Paramore, so it’s great to see the two duetting on one of my favorite songs of theirs.

Clocking in

I was thinking the other day about how I sometimes have a problem with getting started and/or staying with my writing sessions. Quite often I’d blame distractions like the internets or my music library, or having a case of the Don’t Wannas. But after several years of trying to work through all that and getting nowhere, I realized that perhaps I’m looking at it from the wrong angle. So I started thinking: what was it that I did back in the Belfry days in the late 90s/early 00s that made my writing sessions so successful?

Sure, I had the same distractions then as now, but I still managed to work through them. It’s not the drive, then. It’s something else.

And then it occurred to me: I treated my writing sessions like ‘going into the office’ back then. That was the One Simple Trick that helped me approach the sessions with more seriousness. No matter what I did during the day, the session would start at seven pm sharp and often end around nine. A few minutes spent deciding what to listen to, maybe a game or two of FreeCell, but then it was Time To Work. Clock in and do the job until it was time to clock out. Once I established that habit and stuck to it, it worked perfectly for almost four years with almost no issues.

I realized that perhaps the problem these days isn’t so much the drive but the focus. So starting this week, I’ve been trying my hand at reviving that mindset: come 7pm, it’s time to clock in here in Spare Oom. Throw on some music, and get the session started. I’ll allow certain minimal distractions (like visiting cats, for example) but my main focus should always be on the primary writing project. Think of it once more as ‘going into the office’ instead of just the back room.

I’m allowing myself not to be perfect about it, of course. Changes in work schedule, other real life stuff going on, whatever. I’ll even accept that I might be having an off day. As long as I make this process consistent in the long run!

Rebellion

I am coming ever closer to the final act of Theadia, which means that I have to craft what I think is the perfect ending for the story. Mind you, I’m not looking for perfection per se, as that would just be madness. Like the third act of The Balance of Light, I have to work out an ending that both wraps up what I’ve been trying to say with the story, and also gives it a sense of proper closure, and I have to do that using several moving parts of my own creation. It can be tough and daunting, but it’s doable.

Thing is, the cast of Theadia is not your typical group of uber-savvy tech nerds, nor are they artillery-laden soldiers or maverick pilots. (Well, one of them is a maverick pilot, but his flashiness is only used once, and for a good reason.) Those aren’t the characters I wanted to write, and that’s not the kind of novel I wanted to write either. The point here is that I don’t want the ending to be a Winner Take All, Honor Saves The Day sort of thing.

I’d said previously that I’d been thinking a lot about nonconformity lately, and I think that works here in Theadia as well. The book’s cast might hold jobs that require they follow the rules for the greater good, but their story is about not following the rules for the greater good. The repeated mantra in the story is a single question: if you could…would you do the right thing? Every character asks themselves that at one point or another, and often when they have to question authority. Their decisions are never about rebellion for the sake of it…they are about going against norms because it’s the right thing to do.

Will it make a difference, though? That’s another question I’ve been asking myself, and I’d like to think that it will. Maybe not in the grander scheme of things; their actions won’t be universe-altering, but they certainly might affect things on the local levels, and that’s what matters. They’re well aware that it could cause all kinds of trouble after the fact, but it’s still worth it.

I’d like to think there’s a little bit of real life truth in that as well.

Distraction, or just too busy?

I seem to be running out of time to write lately, and it’s bothersome.

To be honest, it’s not as if I’m overly distracted or simply just procrastinating these days. I’ll still deal with the Don’t Wannas every now and again, but for the most part I’ve been doing good. Just…not giving myself enough time.

Part of it lately is that I’ve been working a few odd hours at the Day Job that get me out around 4pm instead of 2pm, which leaves me with a few hours to hang with A and the cats until after dinner, by which time I end up scrunching multiple things into about an hour and a half of time. And to be honest, that ain’t working.

One thing I should probably do is prep multiple blog entries on the same day like I used to — that can easily be done if I give myself time to think about what I want to write about. And though I truly enjoy using the 750Words site, I think I’m at a point where I don’t need to work there right now. At this point writing there is more about getting those words done than using it for various projects. I’m not abandoning it, of course…I’m merely putting it aside.

The other thing I need to do is lay some ground rules, specifically one: what project(s) needs the most focus right now? In this case, I have two I want to focus on: finishing Theadia and starting the remaster of A Division of Souls. I already have schedule plans for each, so that shouldn’t be a problem. And when I’m done with Theadia then I can finally shift the bulk of my focus on writing MU4.

So yeah, I don’t think it’s distraction, at least not right now. Just needing to rethink my schedule a bit.

Binding off…?

I’m willing to admit I kinda sorta know how Theadia is going to end? Maybe? It’s very much like how I finally finished The Balance of Light a few years after stalling: I have a handful of chapters to go with an extremely vague idea of how it will all wrap up, but it’s the getting there that’s eluding me at the moment. And thankfully unlike that novel, it won’t take me another four years to finish.

If anything, my use of knitting references all over the novel kind of comes into play in a stereotypical way: everything that’s gone on is a part of something bigger. I’ve woven all these other patterns (read: character arcs) together and now I need to ensure that they all fit together in a coherent fashion. That’s one of the big themes of this novel: we’re all in it together. As long as I keep that in mind, I should be alright.

Anyway, I’m being hard on myself right now because I’m worried that I’m going to get to the end and have loose and miscounted stitches everywhere and it’ll be a big knotted mess that I’ll have to rip apart and start over. That may or may not happen, but we’ll see.

I guess I just need to have a bit more confidence in myself and in this novel. It’ll get there eventually.

Knowing enough to fake it

Working on this go-round of Theadia, I still feel the occasional worry that readers are going to see certain scenes and think oh dear lord, he has no idea what he’s going on about, does he? In particular, it comes up whenever I have a scene with our two goofballs Althea and Claudia doing their magic as programmers.

I mean, I’ll totally cop to the fact that I know enough about certain kinds of programming. I get what coding is supposed to do. And because of my years working e-payables at the bank, I definitely know enough about what happens if that coding is screwed up, and how a code that runs perfectly fine in test mode can just as easily fail spectacularly in live mode. [Oh, BOY do I know how that is. Reading about BofA’s recent systems kerflooey a few days ago gave me some not so fun flashbacks.]

And that’s what I lean on in this story. I have no reason to get into the nitty-gritty and explain in Doctorow-level detail what the characters are trying to do, because that’s not an important part of the story. What is important is why they’re doing what they’re doing, and knowing full well how it’ll end up because of that. There are a few moments of handwavium, sure, but it’s never a plot point that will disintegrate because of that.

What’s important here is not showing off the two women’s mad skillz, but that they know how to navigate the grey area between compliance and hacking. What these moments do hinge on is them not bringing attention to themselves while tweaking a few things here and there while everyone’s distracted.

As long as I make it believable enough, that’s good enough for me.