Shadow Season Book Review

Hey all, I just posted a book review for Tom Piccirilli's Shadow Season over on my other blog: Sci-Fi Guys Book Review. So, if you have a minute or three, go check it out. Here's the link:

Sci-Fi Guys Book Review

PEACE.

I, Will. Quote of the Week.

I, Will.

I know, I know. Yesterday was supposed to be the day for Quote of the Week.

I forgot... big deal. It's not like anyone reads this thing anyway. But, I'll get to that in a moment. First, I have a rather large announcement to make. (Large for me, that is.)

Last week, I had twenty journals due for my Creative Writing class! And because I'm such the procrastinator, I left them to the last minute. Luckily enough I had a lot of topics already written thanks to all of the stories and novels that I have written. Needless to say, the vast majority of these topics were easy for me to write on. I'm not going to lie to you though, there were a few that just stumped me and made me think, (like writing dialogue for a historical figure) and showed me the various weaknesses that I have with my writing.

But there was one that I had a ball with. The goal was to write a short story where your character takes a trip. In the heat of the moment, I banged out five pages double spaced, but stopped myself there (these writing exercises are only meant to be one to two pages double spaced). But there was so much more that I could write on, and so after thinking on it long enough, I've decided that that's just what I'm going to do.

Now, I've shared this with you all, to only add this: I have a new short story, and for once there's actually some meat to it. After arguing with myself for a long while, I've come to the conclusion that I will be posting this short story, tentatively titled I, Will, in a serial type deal, once a week. This will be an adventure for me, seeing as it'll be the first time I've ever done anything like this. So, not everything I post will be final, it'll be riddled with grammatical errors, continuity errors, and any other kind of error I can think of. Not on purpose mind you, but because this will be a work in progress until I truly feel like it's finished.

So, look for the first part of I, Will, some time this week.

Quote of the Week.

Okay, so now that I've gotten that out of the way, I guess it's time for the second Quote of the week. And since Sunday was Valentine's Day, I thought it would only be appropriate to put up a quote about love. So, here's the newest Quote of the Week:

"It's strange that words are so inadequate. Yet, like the asthmatic struggling for breath, so the lover must struggle for words."
- T. S. Eliot

For my World Literature II class, as part of one of the many choices for papers, I decided to pick a poem: T. S. Eliot's The Waste Land to be precise. Since reading Stephen King's The Dark Tower Series, I've had this fascination with not only Eliot, but King. Both men's work plays a large role in the series -- Roland Deschain the main character of King's series, being named after Browning's Childe Roland, and the third book in the series, The Waste Lands, being named after, of course, T. S. Eliot's epic poem of the same name. So, seeing as I'm doing massive amounts of research on the dude, I decided that a quote by him would be in order and rather appropriate.

(Discuss in comments.)

Quote of the Week. Switching Focus.

Today's post is going to be a two-parter, so bare with me folks....

Quote of the Week.

First things first.

With today being Monday and all, I decided to begin the official work week with one of the new ideas/concepts that I have had floating around in my head for a while. It's nothing special, or new -- there are plenty of other sites that do this, the majority of which do it daily -- but something that I think will be enjoyable for all parties involved. That's why today will feature the first "Quote of the Month," here on The Bloody Pin.

The contents of the quotes that will be featured on this blog will widely vary in range. One week I might quote a politician, the next a philosopher, the next a character from a book, and most definitely authors. If anyone has a quote that they would like to see featured here on the blog, then feel free to e-mail at: kidstaple@yahoo.com, with something to do with quotes in the title of the e-mail, and I promise to look at it, and if I think it's worthy enough, or speaks to me then I'll post it, with credit to you.

For those of you who might not feel like slogging through all the back posts to find the newest quote of the week, don't fret, because you won't! I'll be putting a new box up on the right hand of the screen, which will be where you can find the current quote of the week.

I've been reading a bunch of Truman Capote's stuff recently, and the man has struck me as a genius, so I thought that, even though the banner for this site already has a Capote quote, I'd go ahead and put up another one for the first ever quote of the week. So, without further ado, here it is:

"To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the music the words make."

- Truman Capote

(Discuss below in comments.)

Switching Focus.

And lastly...

For the longest time, I've been bouncing around with projects, writing a little bit here, editing a little bit there, mainly focusing my time on two major pieces of work, both of which I intend to someday be novels (fingers crossed): The Coming Shadow and Coldsleep.

Lately, I've been working on The Coming Shadow, but as of recently I've switched my focus back to Coldsleep. Now, I'm sure I'm not the only person out there who does this type of thing, but now that I've realized just what exactly is keeping me from finishing a novel, I'm going to take action, and keep my focus fully on Coldsleep no matter what, even if it kills me.

And to be quite honest, it very well could. But I'm going to do it, no matter what happens, and I would hope and encourage the readers of this blog to make sure that I keep at it and don't stray from the path too much.

One of my resolutions for this year is to finish a novel. Well, I'm here to announce that Coldsleep will be that novel. I've probably just dug myself a grave and bought a golden ticket straight to damnation, but I don't care.

Not anymore.

Come this time next year, Coldsleep will be a finished novel. A pile of crap if you will. Next year will come the polishing of said crap.

This blog will be my way of venting whatever angers arise while writing Coldsleep, as well as anything else to do with my writing, others writings and my overall venting of day-to-day frustration.

Like Truman Capote once wrote, "Every word takes blood..." This book will take a lot of blood. It may even turn me into a husk of a man, but I'll deal with that when and if it ever happens.

Until next time, God speed one and all.

I, Ferryman.

I have an addiction, and I'll be the first to gladly admit it.

I love to write.

It's not so much out of boredom, or because school demands it, but because I have too.

Let me explain...

It's something that's ingrained in me, both mentally and physically. If I don't feel my fingers depressing upon a keyboard for more than fifteen minutes a day, then I start to get the shakes, begin to sweat, and if left long enough begin to have convulsions. And, I'm afraid to say, it's an addiction I can't sweat out. Trust me, I've tried.

I believe that everyone has at least one good story to tell in their lifetime. (I know I've stolen this from someone, but from whom I'm not sure. If anyone knows who this might be, then please drop me a note in the comments section and let me know. It'd be greatly appreciated!) But, like many people I'm different, in the respect that I have more than one story to tell.

And before anything further is said, I guess I should make the reader -- you -- aware that I have tried to just not write, but that just ain't going to happen, and here's why: my imagination won't let me.

The best way to explain it would be to use the analogy of too many people under one roof, at one time. If you have ever had relatives stay over at your house during a holiday, or ever put them together in a small cramped room, with no air conditioning, with a 120 degree temperature outside, and they haven't eaten all day, then you can probably relate to my predicament.

Imagine my mind as a 12 X 12 room at max capacity, and that there's always between thirty to fifty-five people occupying it at one time. It's hot, cramped, and people are pissed because they're well, hot, cramped and haven't eaten all day.

Whether by murder, or authority, someone is gunna get the boot.

This is the way I feel with all of the characters that occupy my mind. Now, I've tried booting their asses out, but they seem to find a way back in; I'm afraid that my mind isn't the 12 X 12 Impenetrable Fortress that I had thought it too be, because they keep showing up. I boot them out, each time a little bit harder than the last, and they still end up showing back up a few days later.

Through trial and error, I have found that the only way to get said characters out of the 12 X 12 Impenetrable Fortress in my head, I have to write them out. And usually, as soon as I write them out, a new character pops their head in a few hours later to see what's going on. Most times they stay.

I am ALWAYS writing people out.

Why? Because every character that shows up in the Impenetrable Fortress ends up staying a while, and after a few days/weeks/months, I get to know that character; I learn about them. What their favorite food is, their favorite color, who they're in love with, what their ambitions in life are, what they're afraid of; all of these things and more.

And just like everyone who has a story to tell, these characters have a story about them that needs to be told.

From out of thin air, to the 12 X 12 Impenetrable Fortress in my mind, to words on a screen -- produced by my very nimble fingers -- I am their ferryman, I get them from one side of the shore to another.

Without me, they wouldn't be aloud the privilege to come to life, and occupy a bunch of pages. I give them life, and I get them to where they need to go.

I'm a ferryman and a writer.

It's what I do.

Not by choice, but by necessity.

The Final Jest.

I don't really have much to put up here for now, besides a few new weekly things that I will be implementing here within the next few days -- upwards even of a week -- so hang around and we'll see what becomes of this site. I still don't have a real good idea of what I would like to do with The Bloody Pen, but I don't think it matters much so long as I'm getting some writing in.

So, until I start posting weekly bits, I figured I'd post up a poem that I wrote a little over a year ago, in the transition period between President George W. bush and -- at the time -- President-Elect Obama. It was then that I realized that this lovely nation of ours was going down the toilet fast -- knew it even before then, with good ol' Bush and the Patriot Act -- and so I wrote this poem. There were many things that I wanted to say, and many more that were stillj flaoting around in my brain but hadn't found any mental ground to anchor too. Both types of ideas show up in this piece; where one ends and the other begins, I couldn't point out to you, because it all just poured out of me in about twenty minutes.

There's a lot that is being said in it, and I think I'm noticing these things more so now that I can sit back and read it over without having those ideas flaoting around in my head. And when I do read it I find that there are even more things being said than what I originall intended.

Okay, I'll shut up now, here's the poem:

The Final Jest

Cut out the weakness; prolong the sickness,

Corrupt the single minded body; this giant,

Just look me in the eyes and say I'm wrong,

Even though deep inside you know that I'm right,

A government for the people and by the people,

No longer exists, it's a flat out lie; the final jest,

They'll smash the ancient scrolls with giant fists,

And bring about the chains of tyranny that instill us,

Swallow the bitter pills of ash, blood and fate,

And fall into bed with their lies and justification,

Smile sweetly as the pictures taken,

And cry as the world burns beneath your feet,

Your tears will stain the pages of history,

And then they'll see, just like you and me,

That we were manipulated and taken for the fool,

Your slate wiped clean; lost in the sands of time,

This is the final warning that shall be given brothers,

Hear the angels harp as it cries out for blood!

Retribution is needed; raise your arms in defense,

Remember to smile politely when they take you away,

Dance the dance of death; the final jest,

And sing with me as we bleed for them,

Bittersweet victory, we've won at last!

Glorify the Lord's name and watch them burn in hell.

The Template Known As Life, and New Beginnings.

Today I turned twenty.

I'm another year older, and another year wiser.

It seems just like yesterday I was breaking into my first week as a freshmen in high school, anxious for the rest of my high school career, and the adventures it would bring. I look back on those thoughts now, and they still fit the same bill, almost six years later, only they've been transposed to a different template (which from here on out will be referred to as: 'Life').

Many of these feelings are still the same today -- this time as a college student instead of a high school student -- and I'm once again looking forward to my college career, the adventures that I'll experience while in academia, but also the future adventures that are still to begin. The future adventures outside of college. College and it's many adventures are still very much on my mind, but after turning twenty, I had an epiphany: in another twenty years I'm going to be forty. (Yes, thank you. I'm proud of myself as well. Those pesky numbers aren't getting any easier to add up, are they?)

This got me thinking about all of the possibilities that will arise within those next twenty years, and all of the normal mundane human expectations that we as humans take for granted -- becoming a full fledged member of the 'I work my ass off too hard to be getting paid for this crap' Club, falling in love with that special someone, getting married, owning a house, a car and whatever else you can think of, having children and teaching them about God and life and how He expects us to live our lives for him, through His word (for those of us who are religious).

You know, the simple stuff...

I'm fortunate enough to have already found that special someone whom I plan on spending the rest of my life with. Now, I just need to find a stable job and get through college. Then, I can take this template known as 'Life,' and apply it to a whole new set of adventures, which I look forward to sharing with Maggie one day.

But, until then, my academic journey continues, and with enough luck, I hope that it'll never end, especially once I start teaching. Something that I'm looking forward to just as much I am looking forward to one day being married to Maggie.

Today, I turned twenty. I'm thankful to God for getting me this far, and for it not being my fortieth birthday.

My course has already been set: down the path of a new beginning, with many, many more on the horizon. I'm looking forward to them.

God is good!

Half-Price Books, Letters to the President and a Man Named Psycho Joe.

Yesterday morning, after picking one of my best friends up from his new apartment, Ryan and I made a quick trek down to Half-Price Books. I figured, since we were only five miles away, it wouldn't be that bad on gas. And since we were going back to my house afterwords anyways, I figured ten extra miles wouldn't kill us. That and I actually had some spending money, which was a great thing.

Normally we hit the dollar bookshelves in the back first. I cannot say enough good things about the invention of dollar books, they're awesome. Now, instead of the bulk of my library being books that I've paid for with an arm and a leg, it's made up of books that any kid in high school or college could buy with their lunch money, and go away with a handful of awesome books. But, yesterday was different for me. Instead of hitting the dollar section first, I decided to hit the hardbacks.

Although it's called Half-Price Books, the majority of their hardback titles of which I speak of now are anywhere between 5-7 bucks a pop. Only the extremely new hardbacks and paperbacks like Clive Cussler's Corsair, and David Baldacci's First Family suffer from the name of the store. As much as I -- as well as every other Dirk Fan, and Sean King Fan -- would like the new hardbacks to be as cheaply as 5 dollars -- or even 7 dollars for that matter -- they're instead, between 13-15 dollars.

Realistically, if a person were to do the math, 15 bucks isn't exactly half the price of a hardback, especially since they cost around 27 dollars now. But I'm not one to bitch, considering the fact that the most expensive new-used book such as Corsair is twelve dollars cheaper than buying a copy new. And besides, they have to make a profit some how, otherwise they wouldn't still be in business!

The good people at Half-Price Books now how to sell 'em too. As I browsed the stack of used hardback copies of Corsair, I didn't find a single one that I wouldn't have bought, and that's saying a lot, considering how anal I am about my books being in prestine condition.

Anyways, I digress... (Which is something I need to stop doing!)

I browsed the used hardbacks looking for any hardback copy of any of the books in the 1632 alternate history universe, but alas my search was to no avail. So, I headed over the dollar section. There wasn't really any good titles that I hadn't already read and thoght to be mediocre, or that I didn't already posses. So, I hit the bulk used paperback shelves, and came away with four treasures: the first and second books in Troy Denning's Star Wars: Dark Nest Trilogy (The Joiner King and The Unseen Queen, respectfully), a prestine edition of William H. Keith Jr.'s Bolo Brigade, which is of course set in Keith Laumer's Bolo Universe, and finally David Drake and Thomas T. Thomas's Book I: An Honorable Defense, set in the Crisis of Empire universe, which David Drake created himself. All of which, I look forward to greedily devouring, when my reading schedule opens up.

After I hit the paperbacks, Ryan was already out the door and had his purchases tucked safely away in my car. However, I wasn't done. Just as I reached the check-out counter, I realised that they had clearance CD's for $2 a pop. So, I hastily ran through their rows, passing every Garth Brooks, Backstreet Boys and Kids Sing-Along-Songs CD's known to man. It was enough, quite honestly, to make me sick.

And then there they were -- like two shining nuggets in a pile of gold plated dog crap -- shining brighter than all the rest: Blues Traveler's '97 album: Straight On Till Morning, and Hawk Nelson's '04 freshmen album: Letters to the President.

Real quick: You know it's rather sad, when a Christian punk rock band from Ontario, Canada release their freshmen album with a title like 'Letters to the President' with their first hit single having the same name as the album, and becoming famous! If you stop and think about the times, back then the post 9/11 feel was still rather strong, but gradually dying only to be replaced with people questioning Bush's Presidency. I don't know about you guys, but I find that rather hilarious, that a band like Hawk Nelson would want to write a letter to the President of the UNITED STATES, when they don't even live in the same country!

Again, I digress...

As soon as we made our way out into my car, I popped in Blues Traveler's CD. I skipped through the majority of the songs, like I usually do when I first hear an album I'm anxious about, then stopped it on a song called 'Psycho Joe' and listened to it once through. I mean come on, wouldn't want to listen to a song with a title like that!? (Okay, maybe not... Maybe it's just me. Weirdos.) Then, I popped in Hawk Nelson's CD, and Ryan and I rocked it out all the way back home.

Now I told you this, only to tell you about the time I spent with God today, and how all of this plays into it.

But that'll have to wait until later. I still have to finish reading The Strain by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan before I go to bed, so that Ryan and I can record our review for it tomorrow, and it's already 12:30!