Just finding my way

Safe Passage is not an option.

Why the Hate?

I am working on several novels at the moment. During this time I have had nearly the same conversation with all sorts of people. 

Them: "That is great! What genre do you write?" 

Me: "Well, my first series is Urban Fantasy."

Them: "I love those books, who is publishing it?" 

Me: "I am going to self-publish, it is better for me in the long run."

Them: "Oh..." 

Suddenly they have lost interest in the conversation. The archaic ideals of the nineteen-fifties author-publisher are still here today. We accept that small no name start-ups can make the best game you ever played on your phone. We accept that YouTube musical sensations become household words without a record deal. Why is the stigma still present for authors that has fallen to the wayside in almost every other creative field. Today's publishers no longer promote books the way they did, instead relying on the authors to self-promote them. Only big names get pushed to the front of the store. That lady who has been writing the same story for thirty years with new names and varied locations. She gets front page exclusives. I include small press companies in the Self-published field, They seem to get the same responses I outlined earlier. 

Before you shrug off an author because some big name company isn't taking most of their sales, read some of it. I have found more impressive and unique stories in the small publisher/self-published sections than the rest of the store combined. Does this mean I think all publishers are evil, or useless? No, given the right circumstances they can be invaluable allies. Many of the authors in these big houses are there for a reason as well. Then there are the authors who have re-written Dracula from the perspective of a space alien working on better anal probes. 

There are garbage stories in the self-published field as well. Unless they include a heavy amount of mommy porn (the aliens are sexy and Dracula is now a vivacious but lonely housewife), they don't climb far up the best seller ladder and fade into obscurity. 

Go out and find a self-published book that sounds interesting. Worrying about classicism and big supporting names will leave you in a desert looking for an oasis while not noticing the rain forest next door.  

No Worries,

Charles Colp

Support system

There are days when you question the direction you are headed. Then there are days like today. I have been working hard on research for my next story while editing two others. It was a much bigger rabbit hole than I anticipated to get this information. I went out to mow the yard and came back to this random note.

Today is a good day. I am pretty sure I have one of the best families in the world. I am glad she didn't forget John Green in the context. 

Half way there

I discovered that I am already halfway to my goal for my new series. I know editing will add and subtract from it in the end. Yet, I still just want to see eighty thousand words on it before editing. I know it is probably nothing to other writers but for me it feels like something special. Bringing a dragon to the party was just something I had to do. I had a reason, OK, besides just wanting to do it. I hope each of you can find a goal that means as much as you.

create

Create

The drive to create is amazing. It can cause every emotion to flood your senses. Joy at a characters good fortune, sadness at the demise of a character you liked but was destined to reach a horrible fate. Painters, sculptors, artists of every ilk find these same things throughout history. Does that mean the artist is more emotive, or just better at putting those feelings into something. I have heard mechanics talk to a car while working on it, the same for gardeners and their plants. I think it is more a matter of medium and self-expression. If you find words your strength, then by all means put them down, even if you never show anyone. That is another topic. Paint grand cathedrals in the sky, draw a unicorns first experience with a flower, or talk to your plants as you water and care for them. Everyone has a talent, everyone can create something. Whether it is good is subjective. You will find a million trolls to the one beacon of hope on the internet. In the end only your own feelings for the creation really matter. Every other pair of eyes comes with it's own prejudices, experiences, and bias. Go, create, and in the end, if it makes you happy, good job. Do it again.

Growth in writers

I had a recurring dream. It pointed out that I really should save the prince, or princess, from a bad fate. Even though in my dream the cost kept escalating. Are we inherently teachers? Doomed to live the same grade in school, seeing the same mistakes, helpless to only help the situation in hopes that the person learns. Is the story more importantly if we grow, or that we teach others to grow.
Being a writer, you hope your message rings true and others learn from it. So are we all doomed? Do we learn and move on? Ignoring the plight of the ones falling into that same trap. Saving the world and teaching goes hand in hand with writing. We want our characters to grow like children. Do we hold their hands in rescue?
Charles Colp

Singularity

Singularity

We have all had that moment. The entire world coalesces into a single point. Every thing in your life is dropped away and stripped down to the bareness. The point that breaks the soul. We keep pushing but the point is a singularity, devouring all of the energy we put into it. We have found the thing that makes great men or breaks them. No matter how you turn, the point is still in front of you. Do you let it suck you in? Do you fight back against odds that any mathematician would put approaching infinite. These aren't the outlier points of life. They are the points that make even those seem normal.

The light of comfort even seems pulled into the center. You realize that the singularity has changed all that you touch. It makes no moves, it doesn't have to. It is patient, it waits for the time you decide how to deal with it, because it knows what most will choose. The path doesn't fork or bend around it. It too is part of the singularity. Will you come out the other side? If you do will you still be human? The husks of those that chose this are all around. They left their heart in place of getting free. Was that the only choice? Is that the payment to come out the other side. Nothing can be unchanged once through it. Time is a fickle bitch. She may deaden the hardest edges, but even the soft ones can cut.

When you face the singularity, do you want there to be mirrors on the other side? Do you want any reminder? Some go on never looking at what the singularity did to themselves. The world changed, not them. Others curl into themselves until there is nothing left but the fetus that began this journey. Can you find the courage to untuck your arms and legs. Can you find the strength to hold up your head even when the singularity wasn't of your making. It just was. Can you still look left and right. Is there still an angel on your shoulder always showing you the way, or have they gone in the ludeness of your nudity. The bare essence of what made you great. Accepting things outside your control is a tenet of most religions. What of the things you can't control, yet have gained control over you. Zealotry of any kind can be dangerous. It allows for black and white. The gray is gone from life. Do you oppose the dying of the gray or accept it as it is. A hollow existence. The Singularity still waits while you ponder, cry, bemoan, and yell at it for being. It feels nothing, the ultimate sociopath. Will you have the courage to reach out and touch it. Will you be sure that your heart will remain unjaded. There are never assurances. A random accident could take your decision from you. Time to decide is approaching. Maybe it won't be so bad. The singularity maybe a turning point. Another universe of choices to be made. A time not filled with anger. A time when what is right, is all that is left. The world will never be fair. But it can be just.