The Letter Jacket – An Ode to Dad

~ Donald J. Lund

Love arrives in all forms and in the most surprising ways.

One time it showed up as a gift from my Dad, who has been away from us now just over two years.  It was sudden, it was cancer and a devastating battle to watch. Memories jump in and out during the extended process of missing someone, and for me this particular moment offered an amazing turning point in the relationship with the only person who ever earned the Dad title.

It sounds complicated, but it turns out to be pretty simple.

My biological father was a nice enough guy, but he never won his struggle with alcohol.  There was also another step-father in there, but it was a dark, and violent time, and I think the abuse likely set up a tumultuous beginning with my Dad.

How much does a successful, swinging, single guy have to love a woman to marry her and take in and adopt her four sons?  Quite a bit actually.  This level of commitment, love and responsibility is a rare treat in the modern world, but my Dad was up to the task and then some.

That wasn’t even the tricky part, as I was already old enough to be the cynical teen with trust issues.  It was a rocky start.  I had to work for the family business, it wasn’t a choice.  At least not a choice at first, but it was simply a matter of economic necessity to get the family of six on our collective feet.

I never got an allowance, yet my below minimum wage cash flow provided me with what I needed, and for the first time in my life, some things that I wanted too.  I worked at least five days a week, attended school and then of course, there were the chores.  I was the eldest sibling, thus the domestic work load included babysitting my younger brothers, and horrible things like the dishes and laundry.   Dishes remain a drudgery, I’m simply better at washing them now.

There were arguments, a couple very long terms of being grounded, and the adjustment to a new community wasn’t a smooth transition for me either.  Top all that off with the trauma of a football coach suggesting I seek out other sports.  Football was my favorite of all the sports I played, and coming from a smaller town where everyone played, it was a tough moment.

Dad suggested I go out for the city swim team.  It was a funny suggestion, because I did not know how to swim.  He basically thought it was a doubly good idea because I could at least learn how while participating in a new sport.

I declined.

He insisted.

I was ready to be grounded again, based on how well the discussion was going, and then he offered a compromise.  If I a tried it and stuck with it for a month, I could then choose to stay on the team or do something else.  I did wonder aloud if I could avoid drowning for thirty consecutive days, otherwise it was a fair deal.

I begged a couple of my friends to join with me in aquatic suffering, and they did.  Of course they were both better in the water than me, it was just nice to have company while I was flopping around on a competitive swim team.

I survived the month.  And then another.  I learned how to swim.  After that I learned how to race.  I learned how to compete in every event.  The following year was my junior year and I went out for the high school swim team.  It was a very good team with several future college scholarship athletes.  I pushed hard, stayed with it and earned my first athletic letter.

I went to look at letter jackets, I was still working for the family business.  There were two types of jacket available, the vinyl sleeves were more affordable and in my price range And then there was the expensive, yet awesome white letter sleeves off setting our primary school color of royal blue.  I had to hold off and work a couple more weeks to see if I could gather enough funds to pull off the leather jacket.

I explained my situation to my parents, just to keep them in the loop.  The very next day there it was.  On a hanger, with leather sleeves and all.

My Dad generally let my Mom do all the gift shopping.  Shopping was never his thing.  The relationship with my Dad had been all uphill, and the man who does not shop went and bought me one the most meaningful, thoughtful gifts of all time.

It was because of him I could swim at all.  It was because of him I had a job to get the things I needed.  He never offered a lot of flowery comments or praise, but it was one amazing way to say, “Good job son”  — without having to say a single word.

Now you know, it only sounded complicated.  It is really pretty simple.

Thanks Dad, I love and miss you.

–From D.J. to David Allen Lund

To Thine Own Self Be True

~ Donald J. Lund

It sounds simple enough, it just took me a lot longer than most folks to figure it out.

When Bill Shakespeare dropped that little pearl of wisdom via his character Polonius advising his son Laertes in Hamlet, his platitude launched an existential debate that has been going on ever since.

As in what does it mean to be true to oneself?

Philosopher Jean-Paul Sarte would likely concur with Polonius’ statement on a basic level, but he probably aligned more with Hamlet himself, who disliked “the tedious old fool.”  After all, Polonius was more of a company man, into the power and wealth and not really concerned whether or not his son followed his dreams or not. The evils of society and compliance versus the individual, or individualism appears to be at the very heart of Sarte’s core message.

Or if we seemingly run counter from Sarte and go farther back to the metaphysical thinkers, like Socrates and Plato, it gets a little more fun.  Plato’s writings reference the ancient phrase “know thyself” inscribed above the entrance to the Temple of Apollo at Delphi, and pushing him to examine the power of self-knowledge.

And their philosophy, in essence, made some sense; we have to know about ourselves before we can begin to understand the world around us.  Or the bigger curveball from Socrates, “The only true wisdom is that I know nothing.”

Now I feel like Neo in the The Matrix right before The Oracle gives him a cookie to make him “feel right as rain.”  Forget about figuring whether or not there is or is not a spoon, as perception versus reality would really derail us at this point.

Returning to the line from Shakespeare then, once we gain knowledge about our self, and learn of the world, then we get existential, and live a life true to individual providing meaning in a world that often feels meaningless.

Skipping over a few thousand philosophical and theological debates over that previous paragraph — if we are lucky enough to find what drives us, fires the engines of passion, then we are being as true as we know or understand how to be.

Other than a phrase that looks great on a bumper sticker or an Internet meme next to a fluffy mammal, it is a fairly powerful combination of words.  Being true my own self is this very discussion with the world in the form of writing.  Be it a blog, or a poem, or longer bit of fiction, this extended conversation on paper has become the only truth I know.  I write, therefore I am.

I can’t ask him, yet I ultimately think Shakespeare was giving a shout out to the ancient Greeks, as he often did among his works.  However, for poor Polonius, it was likely a platitude, a throw away line for a character who loved the sound of his own voice, but, “to thine own self be true” has taken on a life of its own.  Overall, it becomes common sense, but for me, when I first read the words I wasn’t quite capable of answering what I was all about.

And now it’s a quote that generates a lot of business for tattoo shops, cross-stitch patterns and life advice posters.  However you interpret the line, above all dear reader — be true to you too.

A Song of George

~ Donald J. Lund

Today’s title is not another Beatles reference, or to the Concert for George in regard to the late great George Harrison.

Instead, we celebrate a different tune, A Song of Ice and Fire, by George R.R. Martin.  The power of television may trump the original book series in some ways, as many folks may only understand the story title as A Game of Thrones.

Either way, A Song of Ice and Fire is awesome and is another step along the inspirational path for me.  I realize the fandom nation of the fantasy epic are divided among the patient and the very impatient.   Yes, it is taking a long, long time, and fans are fearful of Mr. Martin’s age and the possibility we will never know the end of the story.  I am going to take the writer’s side on this one.

George Martin is having fun, his life’s work has earned him this moment to take as much time as he needs to finish the story.  Or not finish it, if fate decides otherwise.

Besides, we may not need him to adventure around Westeros.  The world is built, the heavy lifting is done. Martin is easily the greatest world builder since Tolkien. All that and the author has offered enough clues to get us within proximity of closure.

Of course, I’d rather read two more books and get some satisfaction of knowing the intended ending, but I don’t think George truly knows himself.  The rumors are that he has told the end of the story to HBO, in case they need closure to finish something for the hit television series.  However, I would contend he has told them what they needed to hear, some juicy plot reveals and an ending he has imagined.

That said, let us recall this was only going to be a three book series, then four of five and now we’re to seven with some discussion of the series going longer than than all that.  It may not officially conclude.  And it is okay.

We deal with this kind of situation every single day.  I merely need a volunteer from my studio audience.  Alright. You there, and nice shirt by the way, please tell me all about the epic end of Batman’s story.

No?

The famous caped crusader, around since 1930 and we don’t know how his story concludes?  Okay, Wonder Woman then.  Anyone?  We can jump over to Marvel movies and comic then, how about Spider-Man?  How amazing was the ending to his story?

Serial fiction. Comic books, movie series, comic strips, episodic television, soaps, etc. Did we really get an end to Star Trek or James Bond?  Heck, since George Lucas sold his baby to Disney, do we really think Star Wars will ever end?

George R.R. Martin through his fascination with knights, history, and a dash of demons and dragons, has built a self-sustaining universe.  He’s written some prequel adventures just for kicks, and it shows off just how versatile his world truly is.  Anyone who has yet to discover the prequel stories, the compilation hits the stands this fall.  A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, or the adventures of Dunk and Egg occur about one century before A Song of Ice and Fire begins.

Wolves, Dragons or Lions, oh my. The family histories can be discovered any time, any year, in nearly any place.  We all have our favorite corners of Westeros.  My very favorite place, despite the current condition, is Winterfell.  Yes, George hates me, and all of us Starks.  I try to forgive, that’s what fans do.  And I’m fairly certain many will when the next book in the series lands on the stands.

I met George once, as much as one human can meet another at a book signing with a line that went as far back as I could see.  Each person in line was allowed to ask one question, and I worked so hard to generate something original, I think I threw him off just a bit.  All of the castles in A Song of Ice and Fire are so detailed, they may as well be characters themselves.  Thus, I asked Mr. Martin, of all the castles he has built, to choose his favorite one.

He told me I have not seen it yet.  It is true, only he has seen Casterly Rock to this point, but now I’m also looking forward to visiting there. Other artists have painted their versions, utilizing their imagination, which is really the ultimate point.  George has built a world for us to wander, whether we’re reading it, watching it or daydreaming about repairing the guard towers at Winterfell.

I will endure this time of waiting.  It’s a really good song, even if I have make up the ending.  After all, if Batman is forever, so is that know nothing Jon Snow.

I Saw Her Standing There

~ Donald J. Lund

Not all of the lyrics from that Beatles’ classic apply here, but it works.

In the midst of finishing this first novel sized fiction, a story I started on paper over a decade ago, I had never “seen” my protagonist.  That was until yesterday afternoon when I was looking over art to add to my Pinterest boards.  Yes, Pinterest, but I can explain that later.  The fun part was stumbling upon a physical representation of my warrior female protagonist.  I can share her ‘real’ name later, when I am a bit closer to release.  I would hate to see the character name used a few dozen more times before the book gets out the door.

That aside, I wasn’t looking specifically for her, but it is about time to find an artist and commission a cover for this novel.  The concept of trying to describe a character that has been adventuring around in my brain for ten years plus is a complicated thing.  While her first substantive tale is being transcribed onto the computer, in my imagination, she has vanquished many a foe since then.  I realized that while I can write down a description, the visual perception can be vastly different when I hand off my notes to an artist.

So, it was pretty cool to be going through a number of renditions of women in battle armor — some armor was barely there, some was a bit fanciful, but the very practical looking battle gear was what I was looking for, when she appeared among   the screens I was flipping through.  While her hair as a shade darker than I imagined, the shadow could account for that, and she was five years older than she is in this story, it was her, The Last Duchess of Soahren.

It is an amazing thing to see my hero become real.

Now I have something I can send off to a cover artist as a full on starting point, minus the years and hair, plus the unique stylings of each artist will still evolve the original reference point, but it sure is a fun start.

I had to admit, until I found that tangible evidence, I still had some doubts about going with this as my first story to share with the planet.  Of the four other projects I have going or had already written, all of them included male protagonists.  And, I think some of them are more unique than my Duchess’ heroes journey, but the world has a pretty good pile of dude warrior stories on the shelf.

Again, this was something I started a long time ago, before cool animated features like Brave.  Xena on television did a great job as well, but we still can’t seem to get Wonder Woman back on the small screen or the big screen.  Apparently, she will show up with all the other guys in the next Superman/Batman/Justice League film, just not on her own terms.

And I don’t have daughters who need to be inspired by any of my fictional machinations, although I do have a bunch of nieces, all who have the potential to be badass lead characters of their own lives.  Maybe they will see something they enjoy in this adventure.

Ultimately, I just don’t see enough cool women kicking down doors.

The world is getting closer, and I’m willing to help.  This story isn’t political in that way, I’m merely writing the type of medieval fantasy style story I didn’t see growing up.  Inspired in part by all the strong women who were and are positive influences in my life.  Chief among them, my mom, my grandmother, my aunt, and of course, my wife, who all kick in doors as required.

One more strong, fictional woman may not change the world, but it is a lot of fun to watch her change her world.  Now that I saw her standing there, I can barely wait for other people meet her too.

One Tolkien To Rule Them All

~ Donald J. Lund

I think anytime the total number of books sold wanders within range of holy books, the work speaks for itself.  While it is always dangerous to equate quality with popularity, connecting with over 150 million readers is a pretty big deal.

But I’m very biased in this case.

J.R.R. Tolkien not only built a world of fantasy and philosophy, filled with various races, monsters, languages and lands — his combination of poetry, riddles, song, epic battles and the good hearted conquering impossible evil odds helped to build and shape my world as well.

When I looked up some information on the website Tolkien Books, I was surprised to discover the series had sold only 171,000 copies in the first decade of publication.  I found it interesting the series gained substantial ground in subsequent decades, before finding a place in everyday culture with mega blockbuster movies and all.

Interesting, yet unsurprising since it was so not cool to admit you were reading fantasy novels in the early 1980’s.  Or worse, to play the fantasy games inspired by Tolkien at that time either.  Oh sure, nerds rule the world now, it just took a while.

Admittedly, fantasy can still be considered an intellectual stepchild when contrasted with other fiction genres, but the impact of the The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings on the modern world cannot be ignored.  When jokes about hobbits and precious power rings make it to late night talk show monologues, even the most ardent critics have little room to marginalize Tolkien’s epic.

Whether read as an analog to industry and technology sweeping nature aside, or a unique way to show the effects of racism among peoples, or the need to unite against a great threat are all reasons to love the work beyond the Elvish riddles written above doorways.   If you enjoy it because it was a classic hero’s journey, or a story of redemption for the grandson of a failed king, there many paths to take in this massive adventure through Middle Earth.

I think Tolkien saw a lot of what I see in the world.  I believe his writing connects because anyone alone in a forest, with any kind of imagination can begin to see the trees move on their own. If we stay too long in those woods we can almost see shadowy creatures stirring beneath piles of pine needles or hear unmistakably supernatural sounds in the dark, as the sun fades away.

I love that Tolkien loved Beowulf and Le Morte d’Arthur, which were two amazing stories I later discovered and read because of the influence of Lord of the Rings.  I later found Robert E. Howard, Anne McCaffery, Stephen R. Donaldson, Raymond Feist, George R.R. Martin and Patrick Rothfuss due to my first adventures with swords like Sting, that would glow when evil orcs and goblins drew too near.

Fantasy and myth have always been more than escapism to me, they reflect the human spirit as “realistically” as any kind of storytelling.  As the wise Neil Gaiman once said, “Fairy tales are more than true – not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten.”

One of my dragons is thinking it may not be possible to write anything closely resembling a saga the likes of Tolkien.  But knowing his work kicked open the proverbial Elven door, allowing my imagination to produce some unique adventures as well, then I shall take little hobbit steps forward on my own.

After all, while Tolkien dreamed up everything from maps of new worlds to giant spiders, I doubt he imagined his words would be purchased 150 million times and counting.

What A Novel Idea

~ Donald J. Lund

Or, what next?

The nice little blog is kicked off, where everything from favorite authors to silly movies can be discussed.  A place to talk ideas, inspirations, progress or lack of progress, it can all appear here.  This area will certainly offer us the the best of Tymes, and the worst of Tymes.

Now for all the stuff that happens between these ramblings — it is starting to gather some momentum.  I had previously offered concern about being trapped in the first genre that finds some level of publication, yet, an initial story must be sent out into the world.  Adventures hiding away in desk drawers or computer hard drives will not ever be discovered.  Protagonists’ bold moves against crafty villains cannot forever lurk in the darkness, yadda, yadda, blah, blah, etc.

I was taught by a very cool playwright I know, that I should always multi-task. Specifically, that I work on multiple projects in various phases.  That way I am editing one story, plotting another and flat out stream of conscious writing another.  That way, if I get stuck on one idea, I can edit or fix another, or plan for a new short story contest deadline, yet always stay productive.  My professor and a couple of my favorite writer’s do not believe in writer’s block, and I shall follow that path.

Ultimately, I selected one science fiction short story that I’ve had for a while to edit and repair. And for the first book, I’m going with a fantasy novel. When I run out of ideas on the book, I just to the crime noir piece for fun, or the tedious edit of my western from a screenplay to manuscript.

It was brutal picking my fantasy story over my crime fiction novel, and the western for first one to completion.  I love and fear all three future books equally.  The initial effort to go out the front door has to be solid enough to push this beyond a cute hobby for the old writer guy. Or so says the ego.

The fantasy story won because my female protagonist called to me the most.  But I have to admit, anything fantasy I wanted to shy away from, because it is one of my beloved genres.  When I think of elves and dwarves, they are J.R.R. Tolkien’s, not mine.  Fallen knights are George R.R. Martin’s and not mine.  The dragons I see in the skies are Anne McCaffery’s and not mine.  The shadows in the dark still belong to Robert E. Howard and not me.  And the magician I see is Raymond Fiest’s Pug, and not mine.

So, I backed off a high fantasy concept the book originally held. Instead I have generated a character driven piece far closer to a medieval vibe with some hints at fantasy elements.  I am merely an apprentice on this day, and not quite ready to challenge my masters of epic fantasy just yet.

However, the setting does include knights, the political intrigue of monarchy, lots of fire, swords and a really, really bad guy I like a lot. Female protagonists are more plentiful these days, yet, still somewhat rare in the medieval/fantasy books I’ve seen.  Mine is pretty cool, I like her resilience the most, and she reminds me of me and how fast I had to grow up.  While too young to be a Red Sonja prototype or not yet cynical enough to be a Beatrix Kiddo type from Kill Bill, she is a tough kid.  I am cheering for her to win the day.

I’ve gone through three working titles over time, and spent way too many hours trying to find one I like well enough, since I have to see it everyday.  It had a latin title at one point, which is cool, but I seemed to be the only one who knew what it meant, that’s not good.  Then it was a super generic title I hated — no title with princess in the name worked for me.  Besides, Princess Bride haunts my brain in a good way.

After overthinking it too much, my book is currently called, The Last Duchess of Soahren.  Well, it at least sounds slightly better than Duchess Badass, but she kind of is.

The outline is complete, the ending is my favorite part, the cool flashback scene has been added, and I should have a manuscript ready to go through copy editing over the next month.  With some luck and good cover art, the query letter will follow.  The odds are generally against literary agent love at this stage, but I will attempt to find it.  Should that falter, then self-publishing, both hardcopy and digital via Amazon is the backup plan.

All easier said of course, than done, but my substantive first foray as a storyteller should be shared one way or another this summer.

Fired Up Over Ray Bradbury

~ Donald J. Lund

If you know what the temperature is when paper burns, you can thank the lovable legend Ray Bradbury.

As so many wise people before me have observed, anyone who wants to write, must first and always be a reader as well.  My brain is where it is today, because of many good and great books across many genres, and starting with an appreciation for Mr. Bradbury is a really good place to begin being thankful.

Fahrenheit 451 was one of those early inspirational, live changing books that forever altered my perspective of my Universe.  Published in 1953, I did not discover this gem until about 1980, and I recall it was one of the first books I could not put down once I started reading it.

While all fiction reflects some aspects of the human condition, the genius of Bradbury was recognizing a pattern long before the rest of us, and in essence, predicting the potential outcome of the human behavior he observed decades before.

I will include some minor spoilers in regards to characters and setting, but there is no reason to reveal the plot, because I would rather keep those elements a surprise for those who have yet to discover this science fiction masterpiece.  And as this particular piece is to honor the writer, I should note he did not consider himself a science fiction writer, but more of a writer overall, who happened to write a lot of fantasy and horror.  For example, he considered the Martian Chronicles more of a mythological retelling or fantasy than science fiction.  I could also tell he was a big fan of Edgar Allen Poe’s work when I read Something Wicked This Way Comes.

Moving back to the joys of Fahrenheit 451, it seems society in general jumped in on the horrifying premise of burning books, and the irony of firemen of the future destroyed rather than saved things with fire.  Silly me locked in on that singular concept, and I assumed that since the book was written less than a decade after World War II, it served as a caveat about government thought control and book burning.

My family had much love, but very little resources when I was younger and books were an enormous part of existence, because it wasn’t too tough to hit the library or snag a cheap paperback.  So here was a book illuminating my greatest fear, building a dystopian world sans books.  Bradbury showed me just how frightening life could be in such a place.

Bradbury’s protagonist Guy Montag was very easy to relate to, he struggled with his world and how it should be, but when we first meet him, he happily goes along with the program.  After all, his job was burning books as a modern fireman.  His journey is one that really stuck with me, and so many characters I write have a little bit of the Guy tragedy in them — wanting to do the right thing yet, not really sure how to do it.  Add to that, I initially missed the primary point of his character learning by what others told him to do, prior to trying to learn/read and make his own decisions.

Of course, then there was also the great Bradbury quote always hanging in my head, “You don’t have to burn books to destroy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them.”

And yet, I didn’t fully understand the lesson or the bigger warning within the tale.  It wasn’t fire or burning pages that we should fear. It is the lack of attention to another, the lack of empathy, the fear of intellect, knowledge and life experience that allowed books to fade from society.

The genius of Ray Bradbury is he saw our world today in 1953.  Book stores, newspapers are vanishing, and science and intellect is being mocked at every turn. We get lost in big screen televisions and portable devices instead of each other.  Even if the next logical step isn’t to burn them, it is scary the banned books list in communities grows exponentially each decade.

As education is at crisis level in many parts of the country, the argument seems to have fallen to what should not be read instead of the concept everything should be read.  Love or loathe a book, it is not the idea inside that will hurt you, it is ignorance that occurs by avoiding differing ideas altogether that sets us back.

But I digress.  Merely taking in a fictional adventure ride with the likes of Ray Bradbury and we need not have such concerns.  In other words, if you have not yet read Fahrenheit 451, run, don’t walk to the book store or your favorite reading device.

Do You Want Lies With That?

~ Donald J. Lund

A serving of truth, with a side of lies please.

Is this not fiction?

Of course there are all manner of collision between reality and fiction, and a story can emerge from nearly any life experience.  And it is especially fascinating as I find myself an aspiring writer who is currently writing full time — yet is required to explain such an existence to a society with extremely practical standards.

It was a cold winter day, like many similar days before it, and I left my writing chair to run some errands through the snow to integrate among normal humans.  An early afternoon journey to the bank kicked off a list of seemingly innocuous chores, when my identity was questioned.

In retrospect, I understand why.  A late 40’s male, unattended in the middle of a weekday, sans work boots or a briefcase clearly looks suspicious.  It was well beyond the standard lunch hour, and people needed to figure out just what it was I was up to.

The bank teller asked with accusing eyes, “Did you get off work early today?”

“Oh, me, I work from home, I was just taking a break,” I answered.

“Really? What kind of work do you from your home?” her eyes narrowed.

“I’m a writer,” I said meekly.

“A writer, eh. Anything you have written that I might of read?” she said, and then she signaled to some people behind the bank counter.

“Not really, unless you were a loyal newspaper reader in Wyoming,” I answered, but my voice broke as if I was fourteen-years old again.

“Well, we don’t believe you,” said a man with a heavy German accent, wearing a grey uniform, a black hat and holding a completely unnecessary riding crop tucked under his arm. “No man runs around merely writing in ze middle of the day. Vhere are your papers?”

Damn. I didn’t have any identification papers. My cover was blown, but I’m a creator of fiction, so I improvised. Two more guards appeared behind me, so I did a shoulder roll, tripped the men behind me, grabbed a weapon, jumped to my feet and prepared to blast my way back to freedom.

The bank teller’s droning voice shattered my daydream, I shook my head and my focus returned me to similar bank surroundings. She repeatedly asked if there was anything else I needed today.

“No, thank you,” I replied. “You’ve done quite enough already.”

In truth, it was a bit awkward, and I may well get a number of questions exactly  like her query until someone can read something more recent and entertaining than my old journalism days.  All that, and it was funny to imagine the simple scenario blossom into a noir history set piece story, complete with bad accents.

It is all part of the joy now as nearly any dialogue I hear in public becomes fair game to be included in anything I am working on or a completely new idea for something else. Every chore can become an adventure, and each aisle in the grocery store can evolve into a nightmare. Well, that happens anyway. The grocery store really is a nightmare at this point in life.

So, go ahead, ask me what I’m up to, just understand there may by some embellishment on the side.

Tell Me A Story

~ Donald J. Lund

Once upon a time, a little boy moved around quite a bit.  His family was on a life altering adventure from the chilly shoreline of the Atlantic Ocean, to the foot of the Rocky Mountains.  With change all about, he made up stories for himself and his little brother to help ease the tension of the new places and faces.  The boy would tell tales of kids taking the helm of giant sailing ships, soaring the seas of centuries before, battling pirates and monsters and winning the day.   As with the kids in the stories, the boy and his brother would overcome the real world adversity they faced.

Well, that sure seems where it all began for me.  And when I ran out of original material, the real five-year old me would read comic book stories out loud to my two-year old brother.  I had to get better at telling stories, as my audience grew to three brothers, and visiting cousins and eventually friends at sleepovers or scouts on a camping trip.  A storyteller never wants to let down the audience, regardless of size.

I was able to utilize elements of those first stories in a screenplay project for a class.  Some of the concepts still work, some of them need a lot of work, but that is the essence of storytelling.  Edit and improve and hopefully with that experience, I will tell better stories along the way.

Apparently, I am not alone in wanting to do this writing thing.  Research over the last few weeks, exploring the writer Universe around me, revealed that there are hundreds of websites, Twitter feeds, Facebook support groups, organizations from one coast to the other, all to help the writer in me, or you.  One of the messages among the reports about writers in the modern day claimed that over sixty percent of the people in England want to write a book.  I think that number sounds small.

We all have stories to tell and we do it everyday.  Whether it is about having to deal a dork in traffic, or a horrible customer service experience or perhaps finding a rare kind human in line at the driver’s license bureau, these adventures are in turn retold to our family, co-workers or some poor soul stuck next to us on the seat of an airplane on a four hour non-stop flight.  We love to tell stories.  I don’t mean relating facts in order as things happened, oh no, that is kind of boring.  We add some color, descriptions, some projections upon the characters observed in these ritual retellings and perhaps some humor or added tension to transform the experience into something more than what it was.

Now write it down, edit it a bunch and sell it off as a short story.  Not as easy as hanging at the water cooler and talking about a near tragic traffic experience or finding the most shiny silver dollar ever made on the floor of a bus station, but it is a potential starting point.

The immense number of humans writing and creating can add to the doubt dancing at the back of the mind of anyone attempting to write something entertaining.  However, I dream of a perfect world where we all take our turn at the campfire, relating our life adventures to each other, or just making something up to scare me, or confound me, make me laugh, or the best yet, make me think.

I am glad there are a lot of people looking to tell stories.  I hope whatever my unique perspectives and voices are, that they are enough to entertain.  Or at the very least, when whispered or read quietly in the dark, offer some comfort and distraction away from the daily adversity.

What’s in a Genre?

~ Donald J. Lund

Just before kicking off this little blog, I went through the inventory of items that I had written over the years, going back to a poetry book I made for a middle school English class in fifth grade. Actually, a decent haiku in there, but I am not sure it will sell.

I also found a story I started a number of times, but never really got it beyond a third chapter.  Some stuff was only on paper and pre-computer era, others were on various discs, some from college starts and stops and a few I had been kicking around more recently.

In all, I found four novels in various states, a half dozen short stories, three or four flash fiction pieces, three plays, two screenplays and nearly three dozen poems.  It begs the question what next?  And it begs a bigger question and the next decision, which genre?

It sounds easy, but when I enjoy reading a number of different types of books, from non-fiction to historical fiction, science fiction/fantasy, adventure, spy stories, mysteries and westerns, it makes for an important choice.  Some successful writers get to expand well beyond their original genre of choice, others stay strictly within their specialty they become known for.  Stephen King is clearly known for his horror, but he has shown there isn’t much he can’t do when he decides to write about it.

Agatha Christie is famous for her run of mystery novels, but she also wrote at least half a dozen romance novels and three non-fiction books along the way.  My grandfather loved Louis L’Amour westerns, yet even Louis jumped over to tell a science fiction story, an historical fiction novel and a pile of short stories and poems.  Thus it appears my kindred spirits are similar in that we just love to write, not always drawing from the same well.

It might be nice to have a single great book lined up ready to go, or one genre oozing from my creative pores, however, the ideas that bounce around my cranium every day originate from just about anything.  Overhearing a conversation, a line in a movie, a silly ad poster on a bus, and all of those wacky dreams that are tough to explain as I regain consciousness each morning.

It gets weirder when one does a few searches for genre specifics, as the choices are quite numerous and vary with extra categories depending on the source.  One such example I found was at Book Country with more genres than I previously considered possible: http://www.bookcountry.com/readandreview/books/genremap/

Outside of the romance writers in the studio audience, did anyone else know there were ten distinct romance novel genres?  Me neither.  As a huge science fiction fantasy fan, it is a little crazy with 17 genres some of my work may or may not fall into.  I some crossing over, like a short science fiction story that is a bit dystopian, soft science with a dash of romance in it.

Of course the obvious first thought is simply write and let the genre fall where it may, but marketing is everything, even on the self-publishing path.  Ultimately, after finishing, editing and looking over a couple of my most ready for prime time tales, I’ll look again at the genre list and go from there.

As one of those people who still wanders into a book store like a kid who enters Disneyland for the very first time, there isn’t much of the written word I don’t like.  Books are cool, and they are another big reason we’re all here today, in the continuing adventures of reading and writing them.

The work begins in earnest as I’ll stay with the piece that has the most immediate pull. Maybe I’ll be able to combine a record number of sub-genres into a single novel, a sci-fi historical fiction suspense thriller mystery gothic romance western!