The Question

The Question

 

As I continue writing, I find I'm feeling a bit of an emotional disconnect with my content. I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing. It simply is. See, writing Rienspel's sequel is hard. (I know, I know, I think I already covered this in a previous post...) I think it bares repeating and lamenting, though. I know others have told me emotional disconnect is a good thing when you're writing, because you can't be held hostage by it, in turn. However, the way I primarily Make Good Art is an intensely emotional, personal process most of the time. I sit down, write, and bleed. Especially when it comes to Rien and Rienspel. I realize first novels can be awfully stereotypical. Mine's no exception. It's a 3rd person omnipotent coming-of-age fantasy. Some would even fling the mewling complaint, "It's just wish-fulfillment"...

And yeah... it might be... but do you blame prisoners for wanting to be free? And yeah, I am projecting a bit... or at least I was... but we grow up (and if we're especially sharp, we keep growing, even later on). Rien is no longer me any more - and I am no longer him, either. We came to a forking path in the forest one day, and we both took our roads less traveled, in accordance to who we are. Our stories are leading us different ways... We are still brothers, for sure. We share many things and ways. But I'll be damned if somebody looks down their noses at us. We're both proud of what we are, whatever that is - whoever that is.

Yes, I realize he's a fictional character of my creation. It's a book I wrote which is currently sitting, locked in time and space, inside various computers and drives... But when you create something, when you use your heart and your mind, your soul and your love, I think you can bring something entirely MORE into the world for other people, in turn, to love and care and hope for too.

I envy Rien a lot. (yeah, I just used 'a lot' - it's me and it's how I actually talk). I love the idea of being able to wander The Great Forest in autumn time. I'm fascinated with hidden wonders and ruins of times long ago. I furiously believe Man was not meant to bide his days desk-bound - it wounds the soul. If you could forget your life - your consequences- your responsibilities - your upbringing's life assumptions- and simply BE and DO... what would you do? Who would you be?

This Question is the genesis of Rienspel.

It comes out this Halloween - the same night the first few pages take place in the story.

And whether you chose to ultimately read it or not, maybe your own deeper questions can find their voice, too. What question does your own heart and soul ask over and over again? Once you can put words to it - what will you do about it?

...


In the meantime, while you await the Fall release of Rienspel, and while I struggle on to write its' sequel, May the Sun Illumine You Path, and Light By Stars Where Else...

- Ryan

PS

The Grey Isle Tale is now available on Amazon - Prince Janos and friends, likewise, have their own Questions to answer, too!

Writing Rienspel (Warning! *Contains Spoilers*)

Writing Rienspel

Thanks to my wife Steph's urging, I might try to start writing the much anticipated follow up to Rienspel: The Grey King. I'm not sure how to do it, though... Writing Rienspel was magical. It was personal and real - it throbbed and beat with exactly what I needed at the time.

How do you just start again? Sure, I've grown as a writer since then, both in style and technique... but there's something which neither finesse or skill have... and I don't know what it is... but it's something. Writing Rienspel took what I think many new, young writers do - put a version of themselves into a new literary world - and go on adventures. I traveled alongside Rien from Nyrgen to Firehall. I faced the undead and examined my own past. I came to grips with what it means to grow up - to both put childish ways aside, all the while become more childlike. I watched part of who I was die, and be reborn.

In the movie Gladiator, in the end the question is asked, Is Rome worth one good man's life? This morning, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone was on, and we talked about how because Lily sacrificed herself for her son, Harry, that by taking his place, a powerful spell of protection was placed on him. Evil (initially, anyways) couldn't touch him. I want The Grey King to be about Death and Life... all so often, I think many stories cheapen Death, by either simply resurrecting the character or by misunderstanding what Death is.

One of my favorite fantasy authors of all time, George MacDonald, was wrote that 'Death is simply more Life'.  And in fact that we often misunderstand what Life is because we do not die because of Death, we die because of lack of Life. Life is more than what your heart and lungs do - it's more than an ability to articulate higher brain function... It hints on what CS Lewis wrote, "You don't have a soul, you are a soul: you have a body."

One of the things I do with my fantasy writing, is actually use it as a vehicle to explore real questions I have about life, the universe, and everything. What sort of realms untold lay waiting just beyond the Pale for us? Who/what are we, really? What if our existence is much more than we scarcely can imagine, even at our best?

Now, I'm no Great mind. I'm no Lewis or MacDonald... or anyone else for that matter. I'm just me. When it comes to writing well, I still feel like a lost beggar wandering on the fringe of Faerie... with Rienspel, I was given by luck, chance, or design, the faintest of glimpses inside its depths - and for that, I'm extremely grateful. While writing Rienspel, I learned the hard way just how much obsession can cost you... I've seen the Shadow on the wall, and done my best to not horde the writer's manna lest it rot. I've learned to accept what you are given, take what is needful for today only...

I know, I know... I'm probably going off on tangents here. I let me mind wander and this is where it leads me... I worry about being good enough - writing enchanting stories which slip inside the back doors of your minds and hearts. Life goes on... I get farther away from The Great Forest as the years crawl on. But I don't forget. I can't. Part of me is still there - wandering the woods... Except now I've found myself outside, wondering how to get back in... and at the same time, worrying about how I also need to continue going, too.

How does one continue going?

I remember those long silent Saturdays I would spend, tucked away in the Library at Central Christian College... as the snows fell... and I would dream and write... I remember the dorms - with our laptops and coffee... writing on - invincible in our ignorance, impetuous in our youth. There is this place I have inside, from which my stories flow. It's my heart, I think... because I feel my best writing is when I sit down and bleed - and it comes out as words on the page. I've read books on disciplining one's love for writing into a honed craft... I've read Stephen King and Ursula LeGuin. There's this simplicity and purity to writing - just like there is this equally simple and pure way of living which springs from it. We write from our Living. We take what has been filtered through our hearts like a french press brews rich coffee - and then we pour it out onto our pages and screens, and wonder if it's good enough.

Maybe what makes it 'good enough' isn't an arbitrary list of marks to hit... but if our stories in turn are worked again into the good earth of others' lives? That's it. And in season, we allow ourselves to see the garden of light and color flourish around us.

I'm still not sure how to keep writing The Grey King... but I'm sure it'll come when it does.

(Thanks for listening)

- Ryan 

Rienspelling the Morning Away...

I cannot wait until Rienspel is published.
Seriously.

I woke up this morning and the winds which punctuate these late midwestern storms like so many commas were blowing through my backyard's trees. Later on, still thinking about the indescribable feeling I get when I think about Rienspel - the feel which has grown up from one single simple map sketch into a raging torrent of words and pages into this singularly great story... oh, I'm excited for it to be published.

I've learned if I focus on it too long - like strong drink or heady perfume - the feel can fill me up and make me ache. Like I said - it's kinda hard to describe. I want you to know, faithful reader, how each page, each character was worked over carefully. I know most of those reading this post are not numbered among the very few beta-readers I use... but oh, you are in for a treat.

You've probably noticed how I'm working on a different novel right now... The Grey Isle (The Path of Flames ? - I dunno, I'm still working on a title). And you're probably asking yourself, right along with me, hey Ryan - why don't you just keep working on Rienspel? You know... we're all going to want to get our paws on book two of the Phoenix of Redd series once we're finished! Well, the truth is I can't right now. Oh sure, I mean I can physically sit down at my desk and write, for sure... but I can't write IT yet. Writing something like this, which means so terribly much to me (and you should hear how my wife, Steph, goes on about how I care too much about what I write...) takes something out of me. I have to recharge. I have to let my heart and spirit breathe after soaring so high into the starry heavens.

I want you to know that this story, which so many people have helped make possible for me to write and bring to you... (and please try to keep the eye-rolling to a minimum here) Rienspel WANTS to be written. It's like a sentient creature, or like some sort of tale whose particularly delicious aroma has wafted out over that tenuous wall which separates us from Faerie. (SHHHH. keep your thoughts down, will you! - or they'll hear!) Speak too loudly about even the idea and it vanishes. I'm serious. It's like the moment when you are dreaming and you fully realize it is a dream... and then the more you struggle to remain in dreamland the more rapidly you rise to waking. We adventure in perilous lands best left to unexpectedly lucky widow's sons.... lost princesses... and those who long... deep, deep in their hearts for something BETTER.

Rienspel is my shot at it. It's just a book, yes. But what a book! The ideas within them... the subtle presuppositions laced, layer over layer, beckon even me for something... some grand thing... which is deeper, higher and greater than we dare hope to realize...

But like I said, it's kinda hard to explain.

- Cheers

Ryan

ps- for a treat, check out the youtube playlist I arranged to get your Rienspeling whimsy going:

Rolling With the Unexpected

The flashing cursor. Just sitting there, taunting me.


As a writer, the only thing worse than flashing cursors is the sudden ADD impulse to get up from my laptop and go do anything else BUT write. Recently, I finished Rienspel and am toying, exploring, doing-battle-with, its sequel The Grey King. At first, of course, I continued with what I had written for Rienspel... because even as it's author, I HAD to know what happened next.

As I've continued this relentless writing adventure, I've learned a bit about my own writing style- and among other things (besides serially over using the em-dash ----), I've learned I don't like to plan things out ahead of time. I don't like it. It's against my nature, and I'll fight you street-brawl-style if you try and make me. I like to just sit down and keep writing- so I get to explore and feel the way out right along with the tale's own characters. Their excitement or terror is my own. I strive for immersive story-telling... plots and people which leap out of the page at you... scenes you can feel and move you... forests where you can smell the trees and land where you can feel the grass under your toes.

With this being said, I also nearly insist on writing with music on... especially if the emotional crecendoes are in-tune with the current scene or characters. When I eventually hit my first creative block by simply trying to continue writing where I had left off after Rienspel I was annoyed, but not surprised. I've learned by now about these pesky writer's block creatures, and I know a few tips and tricks to keep moving after encountering them. One such trick is one I call 'jumping tracks'. To perform Jumping Tracks, you need to identify the specific emotional style, or mood- the type of music or the generally predictable genre pattern you're in, and... Jump Tracks. For example - I obviously write in a specific fantasy-style (in case you haven't noticed from the theme and word usage of my posts here and on Facebook), recently, I decided to listen to classic rock instead of classical or instrumental game music... I opened up a different story stub I had begun and had abandoned some time ago, and started writing it again. And with what I knew needed to happen, generally, in The Grey King, I slowly realized this random story, with this completely different Western-High-Noon-style character gave me a brand new, fresh take on my story- simply by completely changing my ground-level point of view.

Jumping Tracks isn't just for clawing your way out of writer's block pits, though. You can use it while going to a particularly dreaded day at a boring, unfulfilling job, too! (and believe you me, I've had a couple of those before) See, I believe we are all actually characters in The Story. And so, if we are, we just have to Jump Tracks in our current story. The emotional humdrum mood we adopt when heading back into the daily grind is a sneaky version of the writer's block. We're 'stuck' from continuing our own story for an entire shift... or ARE we? Jump Tracks. Use your imagination to refresh yourself and take your situation from a brand new perspective and then go with it... and see where it takes you. You'll often find hidden magic along the way you would have probably never have otherwise even dreamed of.

I used to work at a gas station - and I hated it. That is, until I started trying to jump tracks, at least in my mental frame of mind... but, trying is half the battle in this case. I realized that working for long spells at the gas station made me assume everything was horrible in the world. And of course, anyone can discover with a few days off how simply untrue this is. So, if how I was feeling while working there did not mean what I thought it meant, then it could mean anything... anything! I started trying to identify vampires and revenants hiding in plain sight disguised as regulars! Once, as a joke, I anointed the doors with holy water and, I kid you not, some customers began literally being able to cross the threshold.... I guess my point is, there's a whole wide world we're living in. It REALLY IS magical. And more than a few of the old tales still hold true. We're apart of it, and if we want to continue discovering where our own stories lead, we have to get the ring to Rivendell- we have to seek out Yoda ourselves, we have to try and stop the Nazis from recovering the Ark of the Covenant.

We have to roll with the unexpected, and see our own story through.

-Ryan

thanks for reading!