What's Your Novel About?

Hello Reader!  Every time I tell someone that I'm writing a novel, their very first question is "What's your novel about?"  And while this is a completely logical question to ask someone like me, a 21 year-old know-it-all with a hard science degree, it is also unsettlingly annoying.

They look just like this guy!!

I say unsettlingly because every person that asks me that question looks to me with this half-condescending, half-curious stare of pseudo-interest.  It's honestly very uncomfortable.  I usually stutter and spurt out a few trite words about the novel being science fiction, about a boy who learns that his father dies, etc.  And I never get the reaction every author hopes for, the indelible, "Oh my God, that's so interesting!"

Of course, the real reason why I'm so uncomfortable with the question may be that I can't explain the damn thing in one sentence.  This is a definite detriment to any and all of my attempts to market the novel.  I really need to get that down.

Proud parents can sometimes translate into embarrassed teenagers

But my own inequities do not negate the uncomfortable nature of explaining my novel to someone.  Especially when my novel includes magic powers, yellow, furry cat like aliens fighting a holy war against aliens who look like bi-pedal wolves, and tons of teenage angst.  All surrounded by really angry, ultra-violent gangsters (who just so happen to be some of those bi-pedal wolves) who are embroiled in class warfare against other, fellow bi-pedal wolves.

It's sort of like trying to sell your kid.  You know what I mean.  What exactly would your parents say about you?  I know my parents would stumble over my litany of extra-curriculars.  Heck, in the beginning of my collegiate career my major shifted from biology to chemistry and back on a weekly basis with them.  My point is that it's not easy to dilute into one sentence something that you put a lot of care and time into - more than nine years worth in my case.

Oof, my worst fear realized.

I'm not sure if my discomfort is shared by everyone.  It probably isn't shared by some of the true greats, or people who have "made it" as authors.  But since I refuse to be a whiny bitch, here's a crack at diluting The Proxy Wars: Dramatis Personae into one sentence:

A kid is given enormous powers and responsibilities but gets in over his head trying to use them to discover the origins of the laser gun, and why the group of gangsters who have been attacking him possess the new technology.

It's way more complicated than that one, somewhat run-on sentence lets on, but who am I to refuse agents and publishers what they want?  Let me know what you think.  Until Next Time Then.

What I Did in the Dead of Winter

Hello Reader!  So I've been awfully busy the last few weeks.  Legitimately!  Stop laughing!  Anyways, I've been working hard on clearing my mind so I can continue writing on my novel.  Wait a minute, you just said you'd been working hard!  Shut up and listen, I'm getting there!

Schizophrenia aside, I really have been diligently pressing forward on a side-project of mine that I've taken quite a bit of pride in.  The culmination of my anger at M. Night Shyamalan coupled with my love for the series Avatar: The Last Airbender has resulted in a completed, 118 page script for a film!  Yes, it's a hefty and slightly arrogant task to undertake.  I've never taken a screenwriting class, what do I know of the intricacies involved in crafting a well-done movie?  But that's not the point of this exercise.

The point was to see if I could.  To see if I could finish the damn thing the way I wanted to finish it, to envision the first season of Avatar the way I feel it could be represented best.  It was quite a challenge, and through its travails I understand why Shyamalan failed.  Condensing one season of a television show requires more than just cutting out certain episodes and including others.  In fact, this condensation shouldn't even occur.  What should happen instead is an elevation of the plot's strongest points, the character's most powerful emotions and the story's most transcendent heights.

With Avatar, this is all rather easy.  You just had to pay attention and rewatch each episode religiously.  From Aang's emergence in the first episode to the awkward and rushed ending of the last, each thread of story is so clearly outlined and full developed by the show's creaters Bryan Konietzko and Michael DiMartino that any missed beat is solely the fault of the writer.

Take for example Aang's love for Katara.  Several times in the show this love is clearly articulated.  The Cave of Two Lovers episode, The Play episode of Season 3, even the very first episode of the series depicts Aang's infatuation with Katara in crystalline brushstrokes.  But those are only a few episodes at a time.  What truly illustrated Aang and Katara's mutual feelings was the blushing, awkward glances, brave attempts at flirting and even daring rescues that occurred without lines being spoken.  It's these subtleties in acting, performance, cinematography and direction that Night left out of his film and that the creators of Avatar utilized extensively.

So what did I have to do to elevate the show?  Cut out several episodes, steal lines from one episode and insert those tidbits of information into scenes and places they did not exist beforehand.  I had to, several times, steal from future seasons and write-in events that would happen later in the series.  For example, King Bumi makes an appearance in the first season.  While the episode he appears in is derivative filler, the character himself is incredibly important.  He is part of the White Lotus!  A group of men that becomes so ludicrously important in the latter half of season two and final episodes of season three that shoving each of the main members' introductions into the second or third movies will demean their incredible importance.

It is crucial to introduce Bumi in the first film of three, give him time to be imprisoned in the second film, and then bring him back during the third.  Because in the second film, you have the introduction of the White Lotus itself, laying down railroad tracks the viewer cannot see the destination of but whose very construction intrigues them enough to come and see the Avatar world a third time.  And Hell, there's so much going on in the second season that using precious minutes of film time to introduce and give backstory to a rather kooky character right after Aang, Katara and Sokka have fought the battle of their lives and lost those that they loved seems to be a drastic and sadistic treatment of tone.

Query Letter Week 3

Hello Reader!  The summer's been hot, so I've been staying inside reading and writing.  I recently finished Dave Eggers' book Zeitoun which is a fascinating nonfiction account of a Muslim family's struggle to stay together despite the horrors of Hurricane Katrina.  I just want to make a quick comment about the book before I begin the meat of the blog.

It was really refreshing to read a normal story for once, one where there wasn't really a lofty purpose.  A lot of the time I catch myself getting absorbed into stories that are grandiose, springboards for the author to comment on the human condition or some other hoity-toity subject.  (Yes, I know that's what I want to do to, bear with me for a second).  I liked reading a story with a normal family, dealing with circumstances that were indeed extraordinary, but not to the point where existentialist arguments about existence became the theme.  I hope that in reading the next book on my to-do list (Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections) I'll be able to dilute some of the work of these two brilliant authors into my own.  Creating a fantastical world grounded in realistic engagement between characters is my goal for this novel and the ones to come.  Maybe I can learn from Eggers and Franzen how to do that properly.

Now, onto the real reason I wrote this blogpost.  Here's the consolidation of all of your suggestions and a few of my own revisions.  I hope you guys like it, and as always please be frank and honest with your critiques.  I always appreciate them, and they've been really constructive so far!  Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

On the island country of Atlantis, Prince Briok Cwartel is born into an era of uneasy peace.  With an absent father and a mother possessed of an iron-will, Briok grows to become petulant, brave, and ambitious. Then, on the day of his father’s funeral, the immortal Amar tells him that he is the final Magna Beast, heir to the throne of the alien Mags.

Quickly educated on the holy wars between the righteous Mags and genocidal Howlas, Briok is tasked with killing the Howlamega, savage leader of the Howlas and murderer of Briok’s father.  Because of his young age Briok’s quest does not take him far from Atlantis’ clear azure shores, forcing him to deal with the dual pressures of history assignments and Lara Heken’s sweet smile while training for premeditated violence.

Standing in the way of his success is a growing mafia civil war, led by the arrogant Tory Cross.  Power-hungry and grief-stricken at the deaths of his brother and nephew, Tory uses newfound technology to threaten Atlantis’ well-ordered society and Briok's life.  With the mafia on one side and Briok’s petulant nature on the other, Amar decides to enact a desperate battleplan that blurs the line between good and evil – and just may let him die.

Until next time then.

Today's My 40th

Hello Reader!  Today's the 40th blogpost!  My absolute sincerest gratitude goes out to anyone and everyone who's reading this.  Honestly.  It's really really incredibly...gah, I'll say it fulfilling to know there are people who actually dig what I have to say.  I'm not one to linger on sappy emotions, so let's get right into the post.

I've posted my query letter three times before now, each time with slight modifications.  I hope this one I post will be better!  Please comment, critique, and suggest in the comments section below (or in an email if you feel the need).  I appreciate any and all feedback, but especially negative feedback.  That's the only way you can grow right?  Maybe, or I'm just masochistic.  We'll see.

Anyways, here it is.

In the year 2015, the Mags and the Howlas brought their unending holy war to the planet Earth in a blaze of fire.  A millennium later and Briok Cwartel is born into an era of uneasy peace as final heir to the throne of Mags - the last Magna Beast.  The immortal Amar, possessed with a desperate need to die, guides Briok’s journey as half-human, half-Mag after his father’s death.  With new rumblings in the perpetual war between Mags and Howlas, Amar must train Briok to kill the enemy before the reaper shows its face.

Standing in the way is an enormous mafia civil war, led by the arrogant Tory Cross against his former mentor Howard Crim.  After the death of his brother and nephew Tory uses his position as “largest Howlian boss east of Atlantia” to bring fire upon Howard’s doorstep.  His mad rage threatens to kill Briok at the birth of his journey, and bring down the well-ordered society of Atlantis.  With a host of enemies bearing down upon him, Amar enacts a battleplan that could prove to be his ruin, and his salvation.

My debut novel The Proxy Wars: Dramatis Personaeis a blend of science-fiction fantasy and at 102,000 words mixes world building with raw emotion to paint the portrait of a realistic future.

Again, please comment, critique, and suggest!  Does this delineation of the plot grab your interest?  Does it excite you for what's to come?  Or does it bog you down with too much information?  Do the events throw you off and strike you as silly?  I look forward to your comments!  Until next time then.

Revelations...Not Really

Hello Reader.  So I'm in the mood to share today.  I've already posted an excerpt, so no I won't be sharing more pages from my novel with you.  I will however be posting my newest query letter.  Comments, critiques, suggestions?  All are welcome.  What I want to know is...from this query are you interested?  I tried to do something different than what I've seen from other queries (that have gotten their books published) mainly because I'm trying so damn hard to combat the science fiction stigma.  I am not a science fiction writer, I am a storyteller.   The query letter is after the jump.

Ah well, life goes on.

Hello Reader.  Today, I'm in a dull mood.  Grades came back, health's down the toilet, and my final query letter was just returned.  Another no from Barer Literary.  I was actually disappointed with this one.  I was really hoping she would be able to represent me.  Her style is so focused and she has an insane amount of dedication.  I've always tried to be an optimistic person, but today just isn't cutting it.  So I'm going to cut this post off short with an excerpt.

The scene is where Tory and Weller, the two brothers who lead the Cross Mafia Family, are awaiting a new shipment of their laser guns.  They are met with a mysterious person that they know well, who brings them news from the frontlines of the war between the Mags and Howlas.

“Do you want to talk or should I deal with the captain?” Tory was glaring at his brother.

            Weller grunted wearily, “I don’t want to talk.  I don’t even know why you brought me here.” He impatiently checked his watch.

            “You’re here because you are my brother.  We built this empire together, we’re going to run it together.”  Tory looked around the shoreline, his eyes scouring for any passersby.  “If you’re not going to talk, at least control your anger.  You look like you’re about to kill someone.”

            “You, perhaps, for dragging me away from my home.” A wind blew through their coats, brushing their beards.  They stood on the pier for a while, watching the boat navigate its way around a series of jetties.  Seagulls cawed behind them, dropping by their silent figures hoping for something to eat.  When nothing came they flapped away, blaring their cries for food louder.

            When the boat came to dock they walked along the pier to meet the captain.  What met them forced surprise onto Tory’s face.  “What are you doing here?” he growled.

            A Howla, diminutive in stature with more of a mouse’s face than a wolf’s, was shuffling towards the gangsters.  Thick-rimmed glasses adorned his face, an odd trait for someone who could heal his wounds at anytime.  A large cloak covered his body, shabby and dull in color.  He wore a patched hat, loose strings following him as he walked.  His fur was a dark shade of brown, with red streaks flitting in and out of sight as he moved.  His ears were intact and his stomach was absent of any scars.  He was the exact opposite of a Howlian warrior.

            “How are you Tory?  Weller?  I’m glad both of you are here,” the Howla took his hat off and held it against his chest.  “Please, if you will follow me I want to discuss a few things with you before you take these away.”

            Tory flinched slightly when the mysterious Howla had put his arm on him, turning away towards Weller with a look of apprehension filling his eyes. 

            “What do you want from us Harry?  We haven’t done anything wrong.” Weller was bristling as well, his frustration showing in his voice.

            “Not yet,” Harry giggled, a high-pitched wheezing sound that scared the birds in front of them, “No, not yet.  I’m here to make sure you never do.”  He took a few more steps past the docked ship and let his hands clasp in front of him. 

            “Did you know that the Holy Prophet Howlamega has killed the twenty-fifth Magna Beast?”  Harry smiled at the awe in both Tory and Weller’s faces, “I see you have yet to hear the good news.  Well, this death we have finally come upon is momentous, as I am sure you know.” 

            Tory’s look of awe turned to anger, “What does this have to do with us?”

            Harry gave a wry smile, crinkling his face into a terrible mask of conceit, “As the ambassador of the Holy Prophet, it is my duty to tell you of the Rewards that have been placed upon us.  Due to Sulfanen the Lion’s death, we have been given the unique opportunity to build our army without hindrance from the Mags.  Obviously, you understand the implications for your families.”

            Weller’s bristling turned to outright rage.  He grabbed Harry by the throat and lifted him with one hand, “How dare you attempt to use us, just after my son dies?  You want to kill more boys for your war?”

            As Harry struggled, Tory looked on with equal hatred.  Restrained as he was, he also stepped towards the dangling Harry, his body tense.  “We have accepted your help from afar as a business transaction.  Not as a favor.  I don’t give a damn about the Howlamega’s dreams.  Your war is not ours. We’re trying to make a living.”  But Tory’s words were lost upon Harry.  Though his life was slowly being ripped away from him, he was smiling.  His wheezing laugh could be heard through Weller’s grunts of frustration. 

            “Stop laughing!” Weller dug his hands deeper into Harry’s throat, “Stop laughing I said, you conniving bastard.”

            It was to no avail.  Harry continued with his giggling fit, his hands now hanging limp at his sides.  He was doing nothing to stop the attack, nothing to stop his life from escaping him.  Tory’s eyes narrowed when Harry looked to the bow of the ship. “Stop Weller!” Tory pushed Weller’s arm down, forcing him to let Harry go.  “The Howlamega’s here,” Tory whispered into his brother’s ear.  He followed Harry’s dark eyes and saw a wisp of smoke slither away.

            “Good boy Tory.” Clasping his throat tightly as he healed it, Harry grinned.  “You are a fine leader.”  He rose unsteadily before glaring at Weller, “Your brother on the other hand is too wild.  Small wonder that his pup went and killed himself.”  Harry had to step back as Weller made another grab at his throat.

            “Where is he?” Weller’s growl was full of menace, unrestrained hatred lacing his voice.

            “As if you could kill him,” Harry straightened his jacket and put his hat back on.  “Back to the Rewards.  You will, young Tory, have your family be a part of our army.  This is your duty as a Howla, this is your duty as a warrior.  It will not be shirked.”  He glared at Weller, “Knowing your anger however, I am worried.  You must remember that there is always a limit to the Rewards.  We are not allowed to harm the Lion’s family, or the country in which they reside.”

            “How would we know where they live?  We don’t know who the Magna Beast is!”  Tory was in disbelief.  The Howlamega was demanding the world from Howlas a world away.

            Harry remained unfazed, “Make a wild guess Tory, use that magnificent brain of yours.”  He turned around to face the Atlantia coastline, “Why else would we build you up here?”  With that, Harry smiled.  “Be careful with these guns Tory.  And Weller, I am truly sorry that your son died.  Next time, I hope we meet under less strenuous circumstances.”  He tipped his hat to the brothers, and left them in shock. 

Until next time then.

Life As I See It

Hello Reader!  So this is an update blog, as well as a thought-game blog.  I've been lax to reply, mainly because I've been lazy but finals also contribute to the problem.  So let's get down to the nitty gritty shall we?  I missed you.

Castiglia Literary got back to me.  They were incredibly nice about their rejection, which I expected seeing as how they don't really represent "science fiction".  It's sad that I can never escape that label with my book.  I have, oh, three fight scenes in my entire 80,000 words.  I've only got one spaceship in the entire thing.  But I've got aliens running amuck, in a future world with an alternative history, just about 1000 years into the future. 

Even so, I don't want to be science fiction.  In fact, I can't even be science fiction.  A lot of the "science" I incorporate into my story isn't very accurate.  The ideas I have about what the future will be like are actually all formulated based on the conjectures I've made from what I hear on the Discovery channel.  I'm not a hard science fiction writer, I'm not even a light science fiction writer. 

Those people base their entire stories on technology that can be.  Their stories center around the effects of technology on humanity, and humanity's effects on technology.  Stories like these are intricate, no doubt.  They're tapestries of crystalline cities immersed in their own grandeur, only to be brought to a level, humble ground through even more grandiose technology.  Authors that can spin that kind of web are impressive, to say the least.  But I'm not one of their fold. 

I write about humanity's effects on itself.  I write about the dangers that lie dormant in us, and how when awakened these demons are fought with vigor unparalleled by our own strength of will.  The grandeur of metal and steel twisting themselves around transducers to create a warping effect of reality isn't the kind of theme I'm interested in.  I'm fascinated by the epic that is man (woman too). 

Runaway

I promise, I won't RUNAWAY with this post. Sorry, I'm a chronic pun teller. Is that what they're called? Anyways, that's the title to the third chapter of the novel Proxy Wars: Dramatis Personae.

Recently, I've revamped my query letter. The summary portion of the novel is pasted below. Again, tell me what you think of it, bring your honest criticism, don't be afraid to be harsh. I really do appreciate it. What I'm looking for are answers to two simple questions: A) Does it get you interested? B) Do you want to read more? Thank you for spending a part of your day to consider this.

The novel centers on Amar, immortal mentor to the Magna Beasts - monarchs of the alien Mags. Opposed to them are the Howlas who are led by their counterparts to the Magna Beasts, the Howlamegas. The long running holy war between the two species arrives on Earth in 2015.  More than a thousand years later in 3096 the last Magna Beast has arisen on the island country of Atlantis. Dramatis Personae focuses on Amar's attempts to train the young Briok Cwartel. As he grapples with his new pupil's adolescence, Amar also searches desperately for a way to end the war, and thereby his troubled life as well.

Meanwhile, Howlian mafias have risen to prominence within the country's power structure. At the apex of their power, the largest boss Howard Crim betrays his protege Tory Cross. Enraged, the young Tory wages war against both Atlantis and his former mentor using the recently invented laser gun. His blind bid for power threatens not only to rip apart his soul, but everything Amar has worked for.

There you go. I worked damn hard to distill the story within those two paragraphs. Honestly, every book I've read about queries has said to distill the story even further. But I've read several query letters that got agents not only interested in the product, but also ended up starting authors on their careers. They've all had longer summaries than my two short paragraphs. So, hopefully this is good enough for them. Anyways, it's late, and I've got to wake up before sunrise because I'm a food vampire now. Ramadan does that to you. Until next time then.

3 Days Later

I know, it's not three days later since my original post. The title above is just the name of the second chapter in Book 1: Dramatis Personae.

Everything I've read about writing a query letter - because that's what you do when you finish your novel and reread it, and proofread it, and fix it, and then write it again, and then proofread...well, you get the point - says that I've got to explain my book in 3-6 sentences. So I've got it down to four.

The story takes place in the year 3096, against a backdrop of war between two alien species, the Mags and Howlas. Led by their respective leaders, the Magna Beast and the Howlamega, the two species have found themselves on Earth where they have settled into an uneasy armistice. With the murder of his father, fourteen-year-old Briok Cwartel now rises to the mantle of Last Magna Beast, forced to contend with the trials of adolescence, his half-human, half-Mag ancestry, and the amorality of his ancestor’s war. The task is not easy, and Briok’s early time as the last Magna Beast is marred by gangland warfare between competing Howlian mafias that could become the biggest threat to his life, and the lives of many others.

Does that sound interesting? I'm talking to empty space, I know. I'll try to be brave and post this on Twitter or something, but there's something in my gut that tells me not to. It could be my insecurities, or it could be the fact that my story just isn't worth the time. I think that's the issue of the day. I've been feeling so incredibly pessimistic about this damn book. I understand that, essentially, I was born with this thing rollicking inside my head. I just can't remember a time when I wasn't obsessed with the Magna Beast. Everyday, a new facet of his history comes into my head, parts of the story are scratched out, characters are repositioned. I spend so much of my imagination on this, and I still don't have an iota of confidence in it.

That could be because I gave it to a couple people to read, and they just weren't turned on by the first chapter. I've revamped it since then, cut out several awkward parts, changed character's names, whole introductions even. And I haven't gotten up the courage to give that renewed first chapter back to people. Then again, I'm sending my work to my peers, who are going to college and have better things to do than sit in and read someone else's work about a battle between good versus evil. Since when did that become childish? To write about yin and yang, about balance and humanity's constant discourse with our darker side. I'm not sure.

I expect no one to read this, I really do. Because I'm not brave enough to fight for this, I'm not brave enough to face the criticism. Maybe I'm being uncomfortably honest and raw, but that's just how I feel at this moment. I really can't explain it any other way. I remember when I gave the original version to my best friend at the time. She said she loved it. She also turned out to be a chronic liar, but I did feel genuine pride from her in me. But I've been blind before. I also gave the whole original version - which was only 150 pages, whereas this new version is at 300 - to another person who was close to me at one time. She said she loved it, and gave me honest criticism. I've used that criticism since then, but we don't talk anymore, and I can't send it to her. In fact, I'm pretty sure we're not even on looking at each other terms.

I've also had my old english teacher/Yearbook advisor read this. She also gave me honest criticism. So did her brother's agent. Her brother works at a publishing house in Seattle I guess, I'm not sure if it's a publishing house, but it does publish material, and the man was nice enough to give a fifteen year old boy's work to a reader. Both gave me the most honest criticism I've received in a long time, and said they loved it and the potential/ambition. Well, look at me. I can feel my confidence growing. Maybe I will post this on Twitter. Hell, I'll scream about it. Thanks. Until next time then.