It’s Not How Much, But What


When I started writing some years ago–writing seriously, that is–I was, admittedly and not surprisingly, naively curious about, well, everything related to writing. I gravitated to bigger writing blogs and came upon one in particular full of budding writers thirsty for advice on how to be a successful author. The blog’s owner, who was plenty experienced, sure, preached with utmost certainty that if we wanted to be successful writers that we absolutely needed to have a blog as a platform to reach out to the voracious readers ready to devour our books. Certainly not bad advice at all, so I logged a new blog post just about every day. Full of new experiences to share with the world, the words flowed in my books as well as on the blogosphere.

And yet, over time, the blog posts slowed, but the writing did not. It seemed that, perhaps, I had learned a sufficient amount to continue without regurgitating what I had already said before–something I noticed the blog mentioned above seemed to do, just in different words–I published a few more books, and the blog posts essentially came to a halt. Book sales continued to trickle, seemingly with no change whether I blogged or not.

Flash forward to a few days ago when a blog post from Chuck Wendig soared into my inbox all about how, really, writer’s don’t need to blog. Blogging should be something you want to do, not something you should feel badly about not doing. It detailed about how if you’re told agents will only take writers who blog and have massive blogging platforms, then you’ve been lied to, and that publishers should, and will, work with writers to combine their marketing efforts. I’ve also seen, and posted, my fair share of posts apologizing for not posting followed by empty promises to blog more, only to have my blog fall a bit stagnant again. That’s when I realized what needed to happen. I needed to rediscover that bit of enjoyment I received from blogging. At first, I was learning so much about writing all the time that I always had something new to talk about.

Mr. Wendig also touched upon this gem: Writers don’t need to blog about writing. As consumed as we are by the craft, blogging should be an outlet, an outpouring, even, of things we find interesting. Of things we love and enjoy. Certainly that includes writing, but us creative beasts have more interests that just writing, so I’m aiming to really explore deeper into the things that interest me and what I have to say about them. A few things I plan to talk about (and would love to discuss with you):

Philosophy – A few months ago I discovered a hidden love for philosophy. Searching ourselves to find out who we are beyond the basic ideals is something I find really interesting. Discovering, discussing, and debating the implications of our actions, the inevitable aspects of our life–death, love, to be human–is something that I’ve been implementing in my own writing, and it’s something I’d like to explore more.

Being a father – My son, Harvey, recently turned three months old, and I find it more difficult every day to remember what it was like before he arrived. So much happened that surged my life forward in the past 12 months, and he is certainly the biggest part of it.

Speaking of life surging forward, I finally landed a full-time job using my college degree. A couple of weeks ago I accepted a position as the communications specialist at a company called CDS Monarch, which is a not-for-profit organization that provides services for intellectually and developmentally disabled individuals, veterans suffering from PTSD, traumatic brain injury, and/or military sexual trauma, and seniors. It’s a lot of great work, and an organization that helps a lot of people. So, if you’ll excuse this shameless plug, check us out on Facebook and Twitter. I will certainly be talking about this some, too, as well as some of the great new marketing and public relations skills I learn.

So, I’ll leave you with that. I’m sure I’ll stumble upon other things to talk about, but I’m looking forward to the future of this blog.

Also, make sure you scroll down and read the great guest posts from Wednesday. There’s some awesome content from some awesome people.

Take care, and to those who celebrate: Happy Easter.

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GUEST POST: Britt Skrabanek: I’ll Be Happy When…


Happiness. We put so much pressure on that single word, don’t we?

It’s all too easy to get stuck in this mental cycle of thinking happiness will magically arrive once we get something we thought we wanted more than anything else—when we accomplish something we worked our asses off to get.

I’ll be happy when I get that promotion.

I’ll be happy when I buy that house.

I’ll be happy when I write that book.

Do we feel happy after obtaining or accomplishing any of these things? Not for very long. Like coming down from a high, we crash and we wonder where it all went wrong.

Hey, what happened to my happiness I deserve? I worked so hard for it, and now it’s gone.

The build-up we attach to thinking happiness comes after a certain thing causes this self-destructive roller coaster of emotions.

As a writer, I know this feeling well. And I see it all the time in other writers.

I hear many aspiring novelists say that they’ll be happy when they finally finish writing their first book, so they can share it with the world. They envy others who have published their novel, thinking they have won the key to happiness.

I know this, because I used to be an aspiring novelist. I used to feel these things.

I used to think that if I published books, I would be able to become a full-time writer. I pictured myself looking out the window, typing away with a cat in my lap, creating meaningful art to share.

Since then, I’ve written and self-published three books. And I still have my full-time job.

After each book release, I felt disappointed. Yes, I was proud of myself for my hard work. I was. But what kept holding me back was the pressure I put on my own happiness.

Because I said…

I’ll be happy when I publish my first book.

I’ll be happy when I publish my second book.

I’ll be happy when I publish my third book.

Here’s the really interesting thing about finding happiness. It’s not hard to find. It’s actually right there in front of us.

Recently I ran a free Amazon promotion on my first book, Beneath the Satin Gloves, for a re-release I did after reediting the whole damn thing.

The promotion was a smashing success, with hundreds of downloads. My goal was to get more reviews. Then, I got my first Goodreads review…and it was one star, no comment.

I blamed the review for stealing my happiness. I wanted to quit writing—not for the first time—and I began second-guessing my path and purpose in life. Just like that.

Sure, it sounds ridiculous as I reveal this vulnerability to you guys, but it’s true. And, we all do it.

Again, I put too much pressure on my happiness, because I said I would be happy when I got reviews for my book. Well, I got one didn’t I? Shouldn’t that have made me happy?

Finding Happiness

The picture of me you’re seeing is a selfie I took right after this happened. It was a beautiful sunny day here in Portland and I took a walking break at work.

There’s a lovely urban park not far away. It’s surrounded by tall buildings and a busy freeway, but the park is spacious and peaceful, a sanctuary inside of the chaos.

It was here that I snapped out of my unhappiness. It was here, on a Wednesday afternoon, that happiness washed over me.

Nothing happened. There was no five star review for the same book to make me “feel better,” or some other grand revelation. I was simply happy.

And when I look back at some of the happiest moments in my life, they happen when I least expect them.

I think this is something we should all keep in mind. I’ll be happy when I live.


Britt is the spirited indie novelist of Nola Fran Evie, Everything’s Not Bigger, and Beneath the Satin Gloves. Her blog, a physical perspective, is a whimsical snapshot of life, musings, and the glory of the written word. Britt is blissfully married, has two delightfully incorrigible cats and loves to experience the world—all of its quirky beauty inspires her endlessly. When she’s not writing, she’s a bike riding Yogi who loves to dance.

 
 
 

GUEST POST: KACEY VANDERKAAR – “Enjoy It”


I’ve called myself a writer for 6 years. It took me about 3 years to realize that “writer” is synonymous with “crazy.” Back before I donned the “writer” label, I wrote a mystery about a girl who marries a guy with split personalities. I don’t remember much about writing this manuscript, except that I did it in my parents’ basement on an ancient computer that was eventually fried by lightning. That book is still around on one of my flash drives. Sometimes I open it and read a few pages—and maybe it’s not brilliant or a work of art, but it is special. I also completely forgot that I wrote it…until I stumbled upon it one day.

A few years later, I completed a young adult manuscript. It took me 4 weeks to write it during a college break. I remember spending all my free time glued to my laptop. I wore the finish off chairs at Border’s, I woke up early and stayed up late because, just one more chapter. It wasn’t brilliant or a work of art, or truthfully, special, but it was so rewarding. Writing became my release, my place to hide and unwind, and feel safe.

I allowed a few close friends into my circle of trust, printing pages for them to read because I was terrified of having my work hijacked online. (I know, I know, crazy, right?) I remember sneaking into a lab at school with one of my classmates so I could print the pages for free. It was like Christmas when they returned the story with comments and thoughts and feedback written in pink or purple ink. I wasn’t the only one connecting with my characters. My friends were instant fans.

I lost myself in the wonder of creating a new world. One book became two, then three. I had an entire series, and then a spin‐off book. These characters became like real people. Even now, I can tell you their favorite foods, where they went on vacation as a child, their likes and dislikes. Everything felt so possible in those days. Sometimes I wish they’d never ended.

There is an inevitable point in every writer’s life where they cross from the “honeymoon stage” into the “reality stage.” This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, more of a wakeup call. Eventually, every writer needs to let someone more experienced look at their work. Every writer (who is serious about being a writer) needs to learn and grow. Oftentimes this means taking off the rose‐colored glasses and seeing our work for what it really is: In Progress. What follows is a lot of editing, frustration, tears, and heartbreak. But that’s not what this post is about.

Writing, like any art, should make us feel. So when I’m pressured to live up to everything I’ve learned, I go back to that safe place, those early days of pure joy. Writing isn’t about getting it perfect the first time, it’s about the feeling you get creating something wonderful. It’s so easy to get lost, especially when we raise our standards to nearly unreachable heights. We can literally edit our work to death.

So whether you’re a new writer, an intermediate writer, or someone who’s been around the block a time or two, take some time and return to that safe place. Write for the happiness it brings you, not because you want to be the next best seller or impress an agent or because you have to. Put the world on the back burner. Tune out those nagging voices and let a blank page fill you with possibility. Let the words fall from excited hands. The manuscript may change with time, but the way it made you feel will stick around forever.


Author photoKACEY VANDERKARR is a young adult author. She dabbles in fantasy, romance, and sci‐fi, complete with faeries, alternate realities, and the occasional plasma gun. She’s known to be annoyingly optimistic and listen to music at the highest decibel. Kacey is president of the Flint Area Writers and the Social Media Director for Sucker Literary. When she’s not writing, she coaches winterguard and works as a sonographer. Kacey lives in Michigan, with her husband, son, and crazy cats. In addition to her novels, Antithesis, Reflection Pond, and Poison Tree, Kacey’s short fiction is featured in Sucker Literary Vol III, Out of the Green: Tales from Fairyland, Ember: A Journal of Luminous Things, and will appear in the forthcoming Spark Vol VII.

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Winter and Writing


I have a pretty significant dislike for the cold. The bracing chill accompanied with freezing wind makes for a less-than-pleasant outdoor experience. Not to mention the time it takes to bundle up in scarves and hats and gloves and coats and whatever other layers are required to ensure I don’t lose a finger to frostbite (I know, I know, I live in New York, I should be used to it by now).

But, all complaining aside, I still have an appreciation for the aesthetics of  the cold season. I appreciate the blanket of snow shimmering in the sunlight. The dark trees beneath a cold, gray sky, once resembling life, then vibrant color, now are bare to show the final cycle of life. A dim farewell to the season. However, when the snow does eventually fall and cover those empty tree limbs, it almost disguises them with a sort of beauty that makes the idea of death–of and ending–okay. Like a thin, glinting veil over our eyes to ease the despair that may come with such finality. It creates the idea that an absolute, crushing end might be a little less final if we can see past the bare emptiness of it. A preservation of life that will eventually return if we can find something to help us hold on.

As a writer, it’s my responsibility to not only tell a good story, but to show one was well. Example: the idea of winter symbolizing death, but showing that we are capable of moving on from it and finding ways to cope with it (Hopefully I did that well). It’s my job to try to make you see something in a way you hadn’t before, or to feel a certain way about a point of view, an experience, a lifestyle that maybe you hadn’t considered. It’s my job to evoke emotions and feelings about fictional characters and trick you into thinking these are real people with real problems who, if they don’t deal with them, will suffer from catastrophic repercussions.

A key aspect of accomplishing my job successfully is descriptive writing. Unfortunately, it’s also something I’ve been a bit lacking in. Not that I struggle to get my point across, but I’ve never been one to go into the deep, minute details of each scene, every minuscule point of a character’s face, or every minutia of a person’s feelings. I’ve been told my writing somewhat resembles Hemingway. To the point. No messing around. Nothing unneeded. It’s just the story and the reader. No fluff. And while that’s well and good, and, well, a bit of an honor, really, it’s not entirely what I want my writing to be. Certainly we don’t have much control over our voice. It develops into what it is, and I don’t think there’s too much we can do to change it. However, I think we’re capable of altering it to some degree.

Our voice is kind of like the roots of our writing. We see what other writers do, how they describe something, tell a story, and why it’s working, and then we try to blend it with our own. Like little word thieves, if you will. Of course you could argue that those influences are the roots of our voice, and with practice our voice then becomes fully grown. But, stick with me here. If our voice is indeed the root of our writing, then those influences, paired with the grueling practice of writing, can then develop our voice into something great.

But once we find our voice (again, a counterargument could be that we never actually find our voice, but instead we just hone it to the best polished product it can become), are we able to change it? I think so. I think we can never lose that essence–the roots–of our voice, but it’s certainly able to be altered. We’re always getting better at writing, no? Every time I look back at an old piece of work I can’t help but cringe a bit because I see all the ways I could’ve written that scene better or told that person’s story in a more dynamic way. In order to do that, in some cases, I need to write more descriptively, which is something I have been working on.

My next work, Wasteland Gods, is currently in the beta reading stage. It also took me close to nine months to write. Taking that long to write something, to me, is both good and bad. It’s good because, well, that was nine months of me gradually becoming a better writer, meaning I can put out a better finished product. It’s bad because taking nine months to write a book means the beginning is almost inevitably far worse than the end, strictly from a technical standpoint. Eventually, however, when I did finally reach the end I was able to go back and read through the draft, adding in all sort of cool details and writing tricks that I had developed over those months, making the work stronger. Of  course it involved some chapter rewriting and extensive edits–all part of the revision process, of course–but in the end I was quite pleased with how it all turned out.

All of this is to say that our voice is important to constantly develop as writers, and this happens without us knowing. But if we actively work to get better, noticing our actions and how our writing develops, then we are absolutely on the right path to really doing something immense and meaningful with our writing.

If you’re still here, you’re a trooper. And thank you for reading.

Classics Kick


Since my declaration of decreased social media, I’ve decided that I need to read some more classics. The only real exposure I’ve had to them is what we were required to read in high school, and most of the time I didn’t do the required reading. I think there comes a certain level of reading maturity that we have to hit before we can appreciate certain books, and I just hadn’t hit it then. But now I’m more eager than ever to read them.

I have mixed feelings about the classics from a writing standpoint, one of which being that in order for us to keep up as much as possible with current writing trends, reading something as old as the classics won’t really keep our writing current. However, there is so much to be learned from reading the classics.

Classics teach us the tricks of the trade. They show us such exemplary fundamentals of writing, themes, and characters, and they often touch on such important topics that I think are often overlooked in today’s fiction of vampire romances. (On a side note, it’s interesting that, for me at least, comparing something to vampire romance books seems to be becoming a cliche.)

So, to start off my classics kick, I read Of Mice and Men, which was one of the books I think I read most of in high school, in its entirety Monday. One of the things I especially enjoy about classic books is that many of them have interesting introductions by professors and people of literature who briefly analyze and provide some insights into the book, which are fun to look for while reading.

Along the Erie Canal.

Along the Erie Canal.

That leaves me with yesterday’s read. It was unusually warm, and the wind had been especially strong, but I couldn’t just sit in my apartment. Across the street, over a narrow trail line by two rows of trees, is the Erie Canal. Since my wife and I moved here in February, I’ve taken many walks alongside the Canal, weather permitting. There are paths on either side of it with benches and picnic tables and grills, so it’s really a nice spot that doesn’t get a ridiculous amount of traffic. I enjoy sitting and watching the boats, and oftentimes there are ducks passing by, so it’s really a peaceful spot to sit and, most recently, read.

So, yesterday, I went out and began my next classic read, The Scarlet Letter, which I’m enjoying. I’m told, mostly from the back cover, that it reveals a lot about the influence of New England’s past on American attitudes, which is something I recently got into. It’s interesting to see how the past influences the present, and can sometimes show the origins of present behaviors. Also, from what I read in the preface, this book was fueled by the death of Hawthorne’s mother, which apparently gave him a new sort of look at writing, and it launched him into an inspirational sprint unlike any he’d had before, since he’d somewhat unsuccessfully relied on writing short fiction.

Now comes the part where you can help! I’ve got my stack of classics, and I’d like for you guys to either recommend which book I read next and/or tell me which ones I need to get–as I know I’m really lacking good, classic books.

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The book on the very bottom is a biography of Emma Goldman that I had to read for an old college history class but would like to re-read. I just happened to grab it with the rest of the classics collection.

The list includes:

  • Of Mice and Men
  • Pride and Prejudice
  • Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
  • Wuthering Heights
  • A Tale of Two Cities
  • The Wizard of Oz
  • A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court
  • To Kill a Mockingbird

Which classics are your favorite? Do you think classic books are still relevant in today’s constantly changing book marketplace?

All it Takes is the Right Story (Oh, and a Ton of Hard Work)


I’ve been told on several occasions that all it takes to “hit it big” is to tell the right story.

“All you need is the right story and you’ll be famous,” they tell me.

“All you need is the right story and they’ll make it into a movie,” they said. “Then you’ll be rich and famous.”

As if it’s just that easy. Bang out the “right” story and you’re golden. No, literally. You could have a gold statue of yourself made because you’re rolling in book and movie money.

That has me wondering: what is the “right” story? I mean, I’ve published several novels and no one has offered me butt loads of money or a movie deal, so does that mean I’m writing the wrong stories? Does that mean my stories aren’t good? My characters are weak? My themes are rotten?

You know what? It’s beginning to sound like this writing thing has a bit more to it than just telling the “right” story. It sounds a bit like it takes time and effort to carefully craft brilliant characters, a perfect story line, suspense, action, adventure, romance, danger. And, in the end, you may only end up selling ten copies. It’s perfectly plausible that you may write the “right” story and still end up on your ass with no money.

In fact, sometimes–and I really do mean sometimes–it seems like you will inevitably end up on your ass with no money, no matter how hard you worked on that book.

Before I became a writer, I would read a book and have no idea how much work went into it. How many months–sometimes years–went into the writing, editing, revision, publishing, and marketing process. I just read the words, enjoyed the book, or not, and went on my way. Granted, I’d done my fair share of writing. But I’d never completed a book, nor had I looked into what sort of process it took to create a finished product and distribute it to the masses. As far as I knew, the author just hammered it out, gave it a once over, and off it went to the world.

I was one of those people who believed you just wrote it, and if it was good you were set for life. I understand where people are coming from when they think all it takes is the “right” story to be the next J.K. Rowling or Stephen King. And yet that still doesn’t make it any easier when people say it to me now. Maybe it’s just the human condition to get aggravated when someone makes light of the writing process–of my dream career–or maybe it makes perfect sense. Whatever the reason, I understand that it takes really getting into the craft of something to fully understand how it works, and the complexity of every part of it.

People are so quick to generalize something or write it off because people are successful at it. As if it’s the easiest thing in the world. When in reality it takes much more hard work than people think, and even after all that hard work it seems as if luck plays the biggest role out of all of it. Sometimes it takes the right person seeing it, the right cover, or the right description. But I believe that “right” stories are written all the time. Just as “right” covers, descriptions, and people play roles in the book process and even then sometimes nothing, or very little, may come of it. But it’s become clear over the years that writers don’t write for the fame or the money, they write because they have to. Because they don’t want to stop, no matter how many terrible reviews they get or how famous it makes them. Writing is fun. It’s exciting. It’s exhausting. It makes me want to scream. But I love looking at my bookshelf and seeing my name in print next to so many others, and it just further reminds me why I keep at it.

WASTELAND GODS: COVER REVEAL


It’s interesting how much things can change when writing. For those of us who don’t plot out our novels–and I’m sure that even for some who do–things can change in a flash as the story unfolds. Character motivations can change. Characters themselves can change. Plot, personalities, history, everything can change so quickly, and sometimes that requires us to change things around.

This realization that something needed to change has been growing for a few days now. I was telling my wife about the recent happenings in my current work in progress, DEADGOD. I told her about some characters’ plans and their roles in the novel, along with what they’re going to eventually come to realize. How they’ll change, or arc, if you will, and what they’ll learn. She then said to me, “I don’t think that title fits anymore.” And me, still enjoying the name DEADGOD, tried to find a way that the title still fit the book. Mostly because I’m so horrible at coming up with names that I didn’t want to go through the pain of trying to think up a new one. However, as I was thinking about my characters and their current situations yesterday, I eventually came to realize that, once again, my wife was right. While DEADGOD fit one of the characters, it didn’t fit the overall theme of the book, nor did it fit the other two main characters’ personalities.

That’s when the struggle began. My characters had morphed into something I didn’t think they would. As their roles in the novel became more apparent, their actions and beliefs changed, and somehow I had to think of a title that encompassed all of it, along with a brand new cover to go with it. I tossed around this name and that name, writing it down on the old cover to see how it looked, trying out various fonts and colors in the editor to see how it blended together. And, finally, with the help of my friend, Karen, I settled on a name that I really enjoy, and I hope you will, too.

So, at long last, feast your eyes on the brand new cover and title of: Wasteland Gods

Cover_C

Click to view larger

There is no hope in the unforgiving wasteland. Only the starved, withering Insurgents. The insane, cannibalistic Roamers. Slavers, Raiders, and death await in the sweltering heat.

The Koval Republic, a utopia filled with clean water and food, shelter, and protection. A land saved by politicians, greed, and ignorance. A republic that looks down upon the Insurgents, offering no help or remorse. Instead, they lay siege to the Insurgent’s meager settlements, hoping to wipe the mongrels from what remains of the planet.

Anton, a religion-hating Insurgent in a world void of faith who only hopes for salvation from the wasteland seeks freedom and fairness.

Claire, a soldier of the Republic, banished to the wastes, struggling to survive. Begging to return to her old life.

Roland, a soldier like Claire, taken in by bloodthirsty slavers who aim to bring democracy and the people’s voice back to the world.

Who will live long enough to see if redemption can be brought to the wasteland, and who will buckle beneath the crushing force of the Koval Republic, and the crippling dangers of the wasteland?

Coming 2015!

 

Monday Recap: Rejection, Sales, Expansion


It’s interesting how sometimes, after receiving bad news, a whole lot of good news comes through.

I interviewed for a staff writer job at the newspaper I freelance for, and I found out yesterday that I didn’t get it. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, seeing as how I’ve been writing for them for close to a year now, but I guess the powers-that-be at that newspaper have decided I wasn’t a good fit, but I’ll continue working as a freelance correspondent. So, not terrible news, but not good news, seeing as how I still have this degree and I’m not using it to its full potential.

However, yesterday some pretty cool things happened that seemed to outweigh that bad news, at least for now, anyway.

First, I sold some books, which  always makes my day better. Knowing that someone was interested enough in what I had to say, and knowing that I potentially have the chance to get a new fan, make someone else’s day better, and, who knows, maybe even change a life, is fantastic.

Second, selling books bumped up one of my Amazon sales ranks!

crimsonappletop100Not long after that, I discovered that both The Rotten Apple and Black Powder Brigade are available on the Barnes and Noble Website!

And, finally, this morning I discovered that I sold more books, bumping up my sales rank for The Crimson Apple even further.

crimsonappletop1002

Overall, what started off as a day that promised to be less-than-hopeful turned out to be not so bad after all. So, thank you to all my readers, to everyone who has bought, checked out, glanced at, and given my writing a chance. It’s because of you that I continue to do what I do, and that I will keep at it until I no longer can.

Snapshot Fiction


There’s something really exceptional about flash fiction, specifically those pieces ranging from 100 to 500 words. To be able to setup characters, plot, setting, and make a reader care about what happens is a remarkable talent that I envy. I’ve never dabbled much in flash fiction as I usually end up coming up with an idea that spans much more than a few hundred words. More often than not the idea turns into something novella or novel length.

Many of these ideas also end up coming to mind when I’m in the middle of a longer project. I believe they call those plot bunnies; those shiny ideas that beg you to step away from your current project and take off on a new adventure with exciting new characters and places and conflicts. However, if we succumbed to those plot bunnies all the time we’d never get any work done. So, something I find that helps me out when the plot bunnies come call is to write down what I call snapshot fiction, or a snapshot in time taking place in this new idea. Sometimes it’s a bit of dialogue and sometimes it’s an ending. But this sort of helps to get the idea out of my system so I can focus on my current project.

And now, (hopefully) for your entertainment, I’d like to share a few of my snapshot fiction pieces with you.

The stone tower looked fondly over its handiwork as the bodies of those brave men, void of souls or what once rest within them, lay scattered on the ground. Corruption had been a mere toy with which the tower played, and the sweet taste of blood sustained it until more arrived.


He looked at me with hopeful eyes and a faint smile, weary with fatigue after so many years of adventure and strangeness. A man, once a merchant barely scraping by, had become a man of fortune. A man accustomed to a certain way of life gained only by spilling blood and taking whatever he pleased.

“I’ll always cherish what you did for me,” he said. “Above all else. Gold, alcohol, leisure. The courage and drive you’ve inspired in me these past months are something I’ll treasure. Thank you.”

I dared not share in his smile, though his words reached a deeper part of me that had not been unleashed in some time.

I nodded to him with a grim expression and grasped the wooden handle beside me. The man before me, my friend, swallowed hard, and I pulled the lever, dropping the floor beneath him. He fell hard, reaching a jerking stop as the rope around his neck snapped the bones with a sharp crack. And my friend was dead.


I hope you enjoyed these brief snapshots in time. I plan to post some more of these as they come to me, and perhaps they’ll help you to come up with a story of your own.

As always, let me know what you think in the comments!