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 

On Despondency

On Despondency

"To have what we want is riches; but to be able to do without is power."

- George MacDonald 

 

 
I will write until something comes to mind. Sometimes it's good just to let yourself wander. After all, as the infamous Mr Baggins once wrote, "Not all who wander are lost." The quote is on a piece of art hanging up next to me in my office; I think it serves as timely reminder for us all. Since writing can often be a bit of a head game, despondency can be a real creative killer. When it's basically up to you, the writer, to keep going, the long lonely stretches can be challenging...

One of the things I've learned along the way, is how by continuing to write you build muscles. When I first read in Stephen King's On Writing how he types about 4,000 words a day, I was admittedly staggered. Immediately, my mind went from awe, to jealousy, to disbelief, and finally to dreaded despondency. How could I EVER write that much on a regular basis, I grumbled. Likewise, on Amazon's new author updates I receive, I'm bombarded by all these smiling, successful authors who gush about their dedication to their art.

And then there's me. I'm lucky to find spare moments to peck out a few pages at a time, much less dedicate scheduled time for 'making good art'. What's to be done for the rest of us regulars?

Keep going.

Any way you can - do it. Only you can express it. Only you can write it just so.

Also, remember you're not Stephen King. You're (probably) not any of those gushy, successful new authors featured in Amazon newsletters, either.... But you're you. (and they're not; in fact, nobody else in all existence is) So long as you keep going as best you can, your work continues to live and grow and ultimately, be yours.

One of the types of stories I like to read are about near-death-experiences. (I know, I know, please forgive the apparent randomness) In some of them, they describe a sort of library filled with all the books ever written. For a fantasy-writer like myself, this sort of material is gold! Imagine, a place where every book ever written exists (including your own). In these descriptions, in this library, there resides a large wing filled with all the books and stories which exist but were never actually written. Whether you believe in this sort of stuff is entirely up to you, of course - but I think the notion remains rather sobering.

What great wonders and heart-felt treasures never grace the earth because someone never wrote them down?

Now, I don't tell you all this to shame you or guilt you or anything like that - but to remind you, what you write, big or small, great or just for fun, matters. We write for ourselves and other people. We write because we must. We type and scribble on because we love to. We write because It Matters.

We are given each day what we need to keep going, and sometimes we must be forced to slow down in order to appreciate it. Sometimes (*gasp, dare I admit), we need to be stressed, tired, and generally over-worked, so we are forced to go back and shelter in what we love best. And as we stumble on, we must look around with new eyes upon the everyday, in order to see the mundane afresh. When we next pick up the keyboard or pen, we're ready to bring keen literary life into our world. Our hands may be callused and weary as we write, but they're still our own. They make each word we spell and each sentence we string that much more ours.

So come marauding dragons or long boring work-weeks - Write on.

"Good night and joy be with you all"

- Ryan

What Gets You?

What Gets You?

- Persistence & the Writing Muscle -

Usually, I write about writing success or some sort of inspiring quip about writing... usually. But this time, as I'm typing away, I have to be honest. My regular writing times have been flagging a bit. I mean, I'm still writing something just about everyday, but I sense that I'm trying to revert to only writing when the misty-magical muse hits me. I realize instead of this, I ought to be focusing on writing consistently, instead. I really ought to read my own advice and just keep on going...

One of the things I love about my wife, Steph, is that she's a smart cookie. Yeah, I might complain about her, shall we say 'high standards' when it comes to my writing... but all that said, if you stick around long enough, she says just the right stuff I need, often at times I least expect (which makes for keeping me on my toes). In the previous paragraph, I used the phrase 'I ought' quite a bit. It just sort of spilled out. And if you're trusting me, I can assure you I did not just go back and add the phrases in for effect, either.  'I ought' is a dangerous phrase. One of the reasons I like journaling and blogging is because you get to take these little wispy, intangible thoughts out of your inner-dialogue and make them a bit more real. By going from little voices in your head to real words on the page or screen, it can help you to see what you're really thinking, and get it out of you. Once you've got your self-conscience out of the darker corners and into the light, you get to see just what sort of creature you're actually dealing with.

Which brings me back to the phrase, 'I ought'. Like I said, it's a dangerous phrase. The 'I ought' creature is one with ties often linked to fear, guilt, shame, and/or doubt. It's dubious and accusatory - and it's a real buzzkill. When you catch yourself running on fear, guilt, shame, and/or doubt, it means you're drinking from poisoned wells. So when you're creating art as you write, it affects you. 'I ought' is a slippery creature, too. Right now, you may even feel it's subtle claws grasping for your will... because you may be beginning to think I ought not use 'I ought'.

The only way I've found to avoid this existential trap is to jump tracks completely. Just like in Ursula LeGuin's A Wizard of Earthsea, you have to make peace with your own shadow. The only way I've found where someone can successfully jump tracks out of the 'I ought' trap is with George MacDonald's rallying cry from his Unspoken Sermons, "More LIFE!"

What did good ol' George mean?

The idea comes from the notion that we don't die (physically, personally, spiritually, creatively) from death. We die for lack of LIFE. The true goodness and vivacious gusto for what truly motivates and inspires us on a deep personal level (and at an even deeper, light-hearted level) is what we need to dance with and nurture. It's what we need to have our deep, late night conversations with - and IT is what we need to buy another round for. Among many things which humans beings are, one of them is Joy-Chasers. If you've never thought about it, get an idea about what you truly love. What gets you all passionate and waxing poetic about? It's not so much about what you get, but about what gets you.

When it comes, full-circle, back to writing, we find that now our love, passion, creative need ect. is now properly put in it's place. Our drive to write no longer corners us with black-mail, guilt, and fear like some lion prowling outside our door... When our creative Rally Cry really becomes MORE LIFE! our love of writing is transfigured from a devouring monster back into a needy kitty-cat purring in the sunshine on our lap.

What do we/I love? Joy-chase it. And while chasing, write.

thanks for listening,

- Ryan

Who Do You Love (Literately) ?

Writers are nothing without reading - so who literately inspires you most and why?

First and foremost, are those two fairy-tale giants, C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien for me. They loom quietly in the background of my imagination. Most of the bedrock from which I build my sandcastles are founded on one or both of these men. But it's not just their fantasy works which get my mind salivating - it's also their non-fiction works, as well. Works like On Fairy Stories (Tolkien) or The Discarded Image (Lewis) delve into the philosophy and structure of Faerie in a way unparalleled.

The next great abiding spirit is George MacDonald. If you know anything about C.S. Lewis, you'll already know about this imaginative titan of a Scottish pastor and lecturer. This is the guy who wrote the original Alice in Wonderland (yes, you read me right... Lewis Carol and George MacDonald were friends, and would often use each other's stories). If Tolkien and Lewis are giants, then MacDonald is the Great and Powerful Wizard. Seriously, his stuff transcends reality. While he's written a ton of all sorts of genre, his fantasy is hands-down the best (although his non-fiction isn't too shabby, either...).

From there, of course, the literary influence become widely scattered. But as suggested in my previous posts, it has mainly been the fantasy authors who have helped me most. Folks like Ursula LeGuin, Madeline L'Engle, Brian Jacques, J.K. Rowling, Niel Gaiman, and Susan Cooper. Non-fiction authors include Peter Berrisford Ellis, Donald Miller, Bob Goff, Edith Hamilton, and Susan Bauer.

Then there's poetry: Robert Frost (*drools). Luis Borges. Homer. Whoever it was who wrote Beowulf.

My point is, here, long list not withstanding, is that who you read and why you read them is vital to the formation of your imagination and writing abilities. Spend time walking with the masters - not just those who are purportedly to be be excellent from others, but with those whom you truly love. You truly enjoy spending quality time with. They're just like relationships. Spend time around people and you can't help but become familiar... And through friendship you can wind up sharing something so unique, only you and that other person, at that given moment in history, could create.

Write (and read) on!

Ryan  

What's the hardest part about writing?

What's the hardest part about writing?

I realize this probably varies from one person to the next, but for me, the hardest part about writing is the beginning. How does my story begin? Once I have the idea for a beginning, the rest can be 'pantzered' out. The tale falls into place. One of the things I always remembered from being forced to awkwardly butcher Shakespearean plays by reading them out loud together with the rest of my high school English classes, was how The Bard did his beginnings. His trick (and you can check it out yourself, of course) is always to begin with either an action scene or with something bawdy. I figured, hey! If that trick good enough for Will, then it's good enough for Ryan.

The second excellent piece of advice I've picked up about beginnings was actually from one of my favorite writers, CS Lewis. Mr. Lewis, in his essays, talks about how he starts writing stories- for him, they always begin with what he capitalized and called Desire and then with a specific image or two which sticks to his mind as he begins. I get that. For me, I usually have a mood or a feeling which I then extrapolate off of - as if the rest of the entire story to follow is only the materialization of an immaterial thing. Does this make me some sort of novice literary conjurer? Who knows? Maybe? On Desire - if you read Lewis' other works, you learn that when he says 'Desire' (with a Capital 'D', mind you), what he is really meaning is Joy (check out his Surprised by Joy, for more). When I write for long spells, I often fight between reveling when my wandering Muse finally decides to show up and just plain and simple not wanting to write any more that day. I've learned that, (and don't go spreading this around, will you?) it's okay to not always want to write. Don't, by any means, become a slave to your transient fairy Muse - for she's a cruel master, and rather neglectful at that. Joy is a living thing we chase. We chase it all our lives. (again, another excellent CS Lewis book on this his Pilgrim's Regress) For some of us doomed souls, telling stories makes up a significant amount of our chase. It's our Yearning - our Desire for something entirely Else which leads us on and on into realms hitherto unknown and unexplored. JRR Tolkien talks a bit about this in his wonderful On Fairy Stories... If this sounds like you- if you feel that inexpressible pull in your gut - BEWARE. Faerie is a perilous place. Don't try to get there. Do not attempt to lock your Desire into a vending machine. It won't work, and it can often drive you nuts.

Your calling to write is special. Let it remain so - free and unburdened. Allow yourself to follow it, however it chooses to express itself. Prepare as best you can for your Desire to pop up in the most unlikely of places. Be true to yourself and it. As CS Lewis's Master (and mine), George MacDonald, once said - 'More Life!' - don't burden and weary yourself with deadening things - let your rally cry be More Life! Whether it's new stories or simply focusing heartily and cheerfully on the task at hand.

Good luck, fellow Wanderer! And happy writing (when it comes)

-Ryan