How to improve your writing.

     Found this on Ifunny.com, not somewhere I would expect to find writing advice, but it's really good advice.

Missed posts

I've had a couple of seizures over the last week, and they were pretty bad.  I have Todd's Paralysis for a day or two after a seizure (I can't talk), and they mess up my head so that it's hard to think.  When I try to write, and I read it back later, it's pretty fragmented and incoherent.  Because of all this I haven't been keeping up on my writing or my blog.  Sorry for the missed posts.

Also, the author who's book I was supposed to review this week never sent me a copy of the book, so no review today.  Normally I would just bump everyone up who's on the waiting list, but I've been in no condition to read or write, so it actually worked out pretty well.

Hopefully I can get my head cleared by tomorrow and start writing again.

Blue Hydrangeas: an Alzheimer's Love Story

     Blue Hydrangeas: An Alzheimer's Love Story by Marianne Sciucco is a real love story.  Not a true love story, but a real one.  

     I think love is the subject most written about in all of history.  Listen to the radio - almost all the songs you hear will be about love.  The greatest plays ever written are about love.  Countless movies and books have been written on the subject.  Almost every fairy tale ever told is about love.  It's the thing we most crave.  People need food, water, and shelter to survive.  They need love to live.  That is why it is a universally sought after... thing.  The only problem with the plays, music, books, movies, etc. is that they only seem to catch the first glimpse of love.  Most would call it infatuation, puppy love, or even lust, in most cases.  My favorite appellation for it is twitterpated.  What most people don't realize is that those rushed feelings of deep emotion are only the tip of the iceberg... the door to love, if you will.  Real love starts where most relationships leave off, after that initial rush goes away.  After the first big fight, or the big wedge of different lives trying to mesh together.  After the excitement of finding out everything about the person you are so enthralled with.  That's when true love begins to grow; when you have to work for it.  You have to begin sacrificing, not just superficially, but truly sacrificing because that person is worth way so much more than whatever else is going on in your life.  That is what Blue Hydrangeas is about. 

     Before I get into the review, I just wanted to say what a truly wonderful portrayal of life with someone with Alzheimer's Mrs. Sciucco painted for the reader.  My grandfather had Alzheimer's disease.  I was little, and don't remember much, but I do remember his confusion.  We'd be at Grandma and Grandpa's house, watching T.V., and suddenly he'd yell at us for being in his house.  

     "What are you kids doing in my house!"

     "Grandpa, we're your grandkids,"we'd say.

     "Who's kids are you," he'd ask.

     "We're Paul's kids."

     "That's right," He'd say.  Then he'd go back to watching T.V. like nothing had happened, only to repeat the conversation several minutes later.  

     I remember thinking that he was being silly sometimes.  Sometimes he'd scare us.  Sometimes he'd worry us, but mostly he was just Grandpa, and we knew he was sick.  Unlike in this great novel, my Grandmother was not able to keep Grandpa at home. She got breast cancer, and couldn't take care of him for the last months of his life.  When he died, the nurses said he'd been calling out her name all through the night.  I remember thinking how scared he must have been, knowing how confused he was most of the time, at not having his beloved wife there to comfort him as his spirit left him.

     I share this because Mrs. Sciucco paints a perfect picture of what it is really like to live with such a person.  The experiences Jack and Sara and their family go through are all too familiar to me.  I read her bio and found out that she was a nurse, and worked with Alzheimer's patients, so it all makes sense.  Thank you, Mrs. Sciucco for bringing light to this difficult disease.  It's more than just being forgetful.  It really affects the lives of everyone around the patient.

    Okay, on to the review.  Sara has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. She's scared of losing everything she's worked her whole life to build -  family, friends, their home - so she makes Jack (her husband) promise that he won't allow her to be put into a home.  Jack vows that he will keep them together no matter what.

     As is, sadly, the case in most such instances, everyone wants to intervene on their behalf.  Jack finds that to keep his vow, he has to battle his confused wife and her constantly failing state of mind, his own children, doctors, nurses, and case workers.  Everyone seems to "know" what is best for the old couple.  They are all kind people, and are trying to do what is best for the couple, but Jack can't bear to be away from his one true love.

     With his failing heart, he finally gives in to the pressure of all of those around him, but when the day comes for him to take his dear Sara to the care facility, she has a lucid day.  He can't bear to break his promise to her while she's aware of what he's doing.  Instead, he decides to take her around the cape, where they live, and try to rekindle memories, and their life-long love.

     This story is warming to the heart, and though it's not the twitterpated kind of love you see so prevalent in the world today, it's a story of true love.

     I know my mom would especially love this book, and I know she's reading this blog so, Mom, I'd get it for you and Doug to read.  For the rest of my readers, It's a great book, click the link at the beginning of this post to get it on amazon.

     I give this novel 

Ondine

     Ondine starring Colin Farrell and Alicja Bachleda is a romantic/drama, rated pg-13 for the usual romatic/drama reasons.

     So, when you're looking for a romantic film to watch with the wife, you always hope the story will be good enough to keep your interest.  A lot of directors throw some skin in their films to keep the guys interest, but that doesn't always work.  I actually love romantic movies, and love having a wife to drag along so I don't look like a sap when I watch them, but this one caught my attention because it had Colin Farrell in it, and I love most of his movies, so I figured it would be good.  I wasn't disappointed.  This is a movie, guys, you can safely watch with your wife, girlfriend, significant other, etc.  The story is good.  There's no action scenes, though Syracuse (Ferrell) does get in a fight, but I promise you won't be disappointed.

     Okay, so a little background before the review.  I didn't know what a "Selkie" was.  I thought, mermaid, but that's wrong.  Selkies are mythical creatures of Scottish/Irish origin.  They are seal-type creatures who can come to land every so many years (there's a bit of discrepancy as to how often, and when they can come to land).  While on land, they shed their fur skins to become beautiful women.  They love to dance and frolic on the land until the sea calls them home, then they put their skins back on and return to the ocean, lake, or sea where they belong.  The pull of the sea is maddening to a Selkie, and they will break all ties, no matter how strong, to get back.  Because they are such beautiful creatures in human form, a lot of fairy tales are spun about men falling in love with the human-form Selkie, so they hide their skins so that they won't return to the sea.  These stories are always tragedies because the Selkie inevitably finds her skin, and she will return to the sea even if it means leaving a love and children behind.  So that is the set-up for Ondine.  It helps to know the folklore before watching the film.

     Syracuse is a recovering alcoholic fisherman trying to take care of his daughter Annie.  The problem is that he lives in a small town where everybody knows everything about everybody, and they stick their noses where they don't belong.  Syracuse's ex-wife has custody of their daughter.  Unlike Syracuse, the ex still has a problem with booze.  Their poor daughter, Annie, has kidney failure, and frequently has to undergo dialysis while she waits for a transplant.  Syracuse can't count on his ex to keep their daughter alive.

     When Syracuse pulls the beautiful Ondine out of the water in his nets the the troubles begin piling up.  Ondine is petrified at being found, so Syracuse hides her in his dead mother's shack.  When his daughter discovers Ondine, she decides that the woman is a Selkie.  Syracuse thinks she is running from an abusive husband or boyfriend.  The truth of myth vs. reality isn't revealed until the very end.  

     Annie and Ondine bond, Syracuse and Ondine fall in love, but unlike most sappy love stories, the plot takes a very real turn for the worse.  

     This movie really surprised me because they took what would be a fairy tale and added realistic aspects of all of the wonderful, complicated mess we call love.  You don't feel as if you're watching an Indie movie.  The acting is incredible and a bit heart-wrenching.  I'm actually surprised that Ms. Bachleda's career didn't take off more after this film.  There is a bit of a dark undertone, so just be prepared for it.  Overall, though, the film was really enjoyable.

     It's actually on netflix right now if you have an account, or you can click on the link at the beginning of this review, and get it on amazon.

    I give this movie

20 tips for writing fiction

     These tips were taken from IUniverse a self-publishing company.

Writing success boils down to hard work, imagination and passion—and then some more hard work. iUniverse Publishing fires up your creative spirit with 20 writing tips from 12 bestselling fiction authors.

Use these tips as an inspirational guide—or better yet, print a copy to put on your desk, home office, refrigerator door, or somewhere else noticeable so you can be constantly reminded not to let your story ideas wither away by putting off your writing.

Tip1: "My first rule was given to me by TH White, author of The Sword in the Stone and other Arthurian fantasies and was: Read. Read everything you can lay hands on. I always advise people who want to write a fantasy or science fiction or romance to stop reading everything in those genres and start reading everything else from Bunyan to Byatt." — Michael Moorcock

Tip 2: "Protect the time and space in which you write. Keep everybody away from it, even the people who are most important to you." — Zadie Smith

Tip 3: "Introduce your main characters and themes in the first third of your novel. If you are writing a plot-driven genre novel make sure all your major themes/plot elements are introduced in the first third, which you can call the introduction. Develop your themes and characters in your second third, the development. Resolve your themes, mysteries and so on in the final third, the resolution." — Michael Moorcock

Tip 4: "In the planning stage of a book, don't plan the ending. It has to be earned by all that will go before it." — Rose Tremain

Tip 5: "Always carry a note-book. And I mean always. The short-term memory only retains information for three minutes; unless it is committed to paper you can lose an idea for ever." — Will Self

Tip 6: "It's doubtful that anyone with an internet connection at his workplace is writing good fiction." — Jonathan Franzen

"Work on a computer that is disconnected from the internet." — Zadie Smith

Tip 7: "Interesting verbs are seldom very interesting." — Jonathan Franzen

Tip 8: "Read it aloud to yourself because that's the only way to be sure the rhythms of the sentences are OK (prose rhythms are too complex and subtle to be thought out—they can be got right only by ear)." — Diana Athill

Tip 9: "Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass." – Anton Chekhov

Tip 10: "Listen to the criticisms and preferences of your trusted 'first readers.'" — Rose Tremain

Tip 11: "Fiction that isn't an author's personal adventure into the frightening or the unknown isn't worth writing for anything but money." —Jonathan Franzen

Tip 12: "Don't panic. Midway through writing a novel, I have regularly experienced moments of bowel-curdling terror, as I contemplate the drivel on the screen before me and see beyond it, in quick succession, the derisive reviews, the friends' embarrassment, the failing career, the dwindling income, the repossessed house, the divorce . . . Working doggedly on through crises like these, however, has always got me there in the end. Leaving the desk for a while can help. Talking the problem through can help me recall what I was trying to achieve before I got stuck. Going for a long walk almost always gets me thinking about my manuscript in a slightly new way. And if all else fails, there's prayer. St Francis de Sales, the patron saint of writers, has often helped me out in a crisis. If you want to spread your net more widely, you could try appealing to Calliope, the muse of epic poetry, too." — Sarah Waters

Tip 13: "The writing life is essentially one of solitary confinement – if you can't deal with this you needn't apply." — Will Self

Tip 14: "Be your own editor/critic. Sympathetic but merciless!" — Joyce Carol Oates

Tip 15: "The reader is a friend, not an adversary, not a spectator." —Jonathan Franzen

Tip 16: "Keep your exclamation points under control. You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose. If you have the knack of playing with exclaimers the way Tom Wolfe does, you can throw them in by the handful." — Elmore Leonard

Tip 17: "Remember: when people tell you something's wrong or doesn't work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong." — Neil Gaiman

Tip 18: "You know that sickening feeling of inadequacy and over-exposure you feel when you look upon your own empurpled prose? Relax into the awareness that this ghastly sensation will never, ever leave you, no matter how successful and publicly lauded you become. It is intrinsic to the real business of writing and should be cherished." — Will Self

Tip 19: "The main rule of writing is that if you do it with enough assurance and confidence, you're allowed to do whatever you like. (That may be a rule for life as well as for writing. But it's definitely true for writing.) So write your story as it needs to be written. Write it honestly, and tell it as best you can. I'm not sure that there are any other rules. Not ones that matter." —Neil Gaiman

Tip 20: "The nearest I have to a rule is a Post-it on the wall in front of my desk saying ‘Faire et se taire’ (Flaubert), which I translate for myself as ‘Shut up and get on with it.’" — Helen Simpson

Even famous authors sometimes have a tough time with writing; they also go through periods of self-doubt. Despite this, they always manage to come up with the goods. So take a lesson from them and stop putting off your writing plans and get started on your publishing journey today.

There has never been a better time than now to realize your dream of becoming a published author. Let your voice be heard and let your story be told. Never let your passion for writing wane.

Dragon Souls, Book 3, Chapter 3

     Today was a fairly unproductive day.  I wrote a whopping 2 pages... But I'll share some stuff I wrote a long time ago.  Here's Chapter 3 of my third book.  I hope you enjoy.  I'm looking for beta readers for the whole thing when I finish.  I think this will be the last chapter I post here.  If you're interested in being a beta reader let me know.  I'd like to get at least 3, but the more the merrier.

Chapter 3

                Water slowly dripping from the ceiling and plopping into stagnant puddles was the only noise to be heard.  The tortured cries and wails of anguish from the other prisoners had finally given way to the dead quiet of exhausted sleep.  Cal had lost count of the number of days, weeks, months, or even years he’d been in the dark dungeon.  He never felt the warm sun on his skin, but the air always cooled at night, noting the passing of yet another day in the clutches of the Phantom Lord.  At first he had tried to keep track of the passing of time, but the hours of torture and exhaustion from lack of sleep, along with the bizarre physical training he was forced to endure, had all made him teeter on the brinks of sanity and the endless abyss of madness.  Dreams of his beautiful elven princess had been the only thing keeping him from falling over that edge.

                He didn’t know Erroyle. Not really.  Mother Gaia had “given” her to him.  Erroyle seemed instantly taken with him, but Cal had never had any experience with women.  He wasn’t sure if one could just love someone because Mother Gaia proclaimed it to be so.  Truth be told, he had never given any thought to love.  He was old enough, seventeen, but girls had never paid him any heed.  He supposed he must be something awful to look upon; blinded at birth, scars where eyes should be, countless grisly scars from years of working around dragons without the use of his eyes, not to mention the fact that he had never been able to do most of the things other boys did because of the loss of his sight.  What kind of life could he offer a girl?  No, he had never even dreamed of love… until she came into his life.

                It wasn’t fair!  His life had already been so horrible.  Why even have a love if he was to lose her in two days?  His heart ached for her, though.  He couldn’t explain it, but she was all he could think about.  He remembered, vaguely, that he had left home to save his parents.  At the time it seemed so important, but now the torture had made him forget all those cares.  The only thing left was her.  Erroyle was the last hope of sanity to which he tediously clung.

                Cal’s muscles ached from use.  Even at night he wasn’t given rest from his training.  His jailors would strap bands to his ankles and wrists.  Chains hooked to heavy weights and strung through pulleys pulled at him from every direction.  Cal had learned to pull his arms in fold them, and pull his legs in and cross them at night to keep from having dislocated limbs in the mornings.   Of course, this meant flexing his muscles all night.  At first, he couldn’t sleep with the weights pulled in, but over time he had learned to lock his muscles and drift off.  The results were that Cal was getting large with muscle.  He was forced to work all day, and sleep with his muscles flexed.  The jailors fed him more every meal than he would normally have eaten in a day.  He must have doubled his weight in the time he had been imprisoned. 

                He trained for hours at the sword and all other manner of weaponry.  Sometimes he was made to fight several opponents at once.  Had he never felt the dragon warrior’s spirit within him, he would have thought the feat impossible. 

The strange black dragon Cal was linked with had the ability to move his body through the link they shared.  And his battle prowess was without peers.  When Cal allowed the dragon to take control of his body he was an invincible warrior.  That too was over, now.  The dragon had been fatally wounded when Cal was captured.  He could no longer feel the bond with the beast.  His poor soul dragon was dead.

The Phantom Lord was training him to fight as if he were still possessed with the dragon’s spirit.  The use of his eyes, or rather the lack of their use, didn’t seem to matter to the tyrant.  His sparing partners went for blood with every swing.  Cal had quickly learned to listen carefully for their attacks and counter or be cut.

He had also learned more about the strange powers he possessed.  The Phantom Lord had all manner of dark sorcerers at his command.  Cal learned of spell casting, runes, enchantments, black magic, white magic, elemental magic, arcane magic, and all sorts of magic he had never heard of before.  He was physically exhausted from the training, but he was also mentally exhausted from the learning.  Some nights he couldn’t get his mind to stop, and he would stay up all night thinking about the things he was learning.

 He knew now that if he ever were to free himself from this nightmare, he would no longer be a helpless blind boy.  He could create a bubble of “sight” around him with magic.  He was able to do so with the aid of the dragon, but his studies had taught him how to do it for himself; how to feel the molecules of matter all around him.  They were all connected in a sense; the air, the ground, all living things moving about.  He could feel the molecules touching his body, and the ones touching those, and so on for about ten or fifteen feet around him in every direction.  It was a bit different from when the dragon had invoked the magic within him.  Not better nor worse, just different.  The dragon’s magic was like sight.  Cal’s magic was closer to touch.  He could feel his environment instead of seeing a mental image of it.

In short, Cal had finally risen above his disability.  Not only that, but he was becoming a powerful warrior and wizard.  He no longer felt like a victim of life.  He was now only a victim of the Phantom Lord; his play thing, only brought out to amuse its master.  But Cal swore that if his cruel captor ever let his guard down, he’d kill him.  As much as he abhorred killing, he would gladly rid the world of the Phantom Lord.  Then he would be free to find his Erroyle.

“Brooding over times past, or times present?”  came the grandmotherly voice from the cell next to Cal’s. 

Call had become fast friends with the old woman.  She had comforted him as he cried away the first helpless nights in the dungeon.  Unable to pull the weights in, then, he was in constant pain of being stretched in every direction.   He was terrified of being in the cold dungeon, and helpless against the trials and tests the Phantom Lord constantly placed before him.  The old woman was the only one to show him any kindness.  It was she who taught him how to pull in the weights and fold his arms and legs.  She helped him work the magics he had the most difficulty learning.  She walked him through fighting tactics which gave him an edge over his opponents in the Phantom Lords arena.  She was his savior in the times of his darkest hours.  And for all her help, he didn’t even know her true name.  She had claimed to have forgotten it years ago under the insanity of torture, so he took to calling her Nana.  She always laughed favorably at the title, so he tried to use it as often as he could with her.  Her cell was just outside of his magical bubble of “sight” so he never did get a chance to see her.

“Just brooding in general, I suppose,” Cal responded.

“What’s on your mind tonight, Cal?”

“Nana, do you know how long I’ve been down here?”

Nana seemed to think back, mumbling some calculations under her breath.  “I suppose it’s been close to a year now,” She answered, at last.

A year! Was it only a year? It seemed so much longer.  And yet, it seemed like only yesterday he was fighting for the freedom of the Three Free Kingdoms.

“Do you know if the Phantom Lord has pressed any farther into the central and northern lands,” Cal asked, hoping for the best, though he already feared the worst.

“No, Cal, the Chosen One showed up just after you were captured,” Nana answered, in a kindly reassuring voice.  “Most of the dragon armies from both sides were pulled into some sort of strange dark portal.  We haven’t heard from them ever since.  Besides, the Phantom Lord was injured during the battle.  His dragon was ruined and can no longer fly, and his army suffered massive losses at the hands of Mother Gaia.  She flooded the Dwarven stronghold with lava after the Phantom Lord’s army overran it.”

“The dwarves!  Did they… Were they all killed?”

“I don’t know deary.  I don’t get much more information down here than you do.  I do know that the whole mountain was flooded with lava, and the Phantom Lord lost close to a million soldiers.  Losing those and the several hundred thousand of the dragon army has left him pretty weak, but the Three Free Kingdoms have not pursued, so I believe their losses were just as great.”

Cal felt his heart sink.  Erroyle was with the dwarves.  He had assumed she was safe with them.  The stronghold seemed all but impenetrable.  He couldn’t imagine those gates ever falling.  And yet, they had.  They had fallen and the dwarves must have been killed.

Cal felt a warm tear scroll down his face.

She had likely been killed.

“What is it dear,” the kind old woman asked.

“Erroyle…” was all Cal could croak.

“Now deary, from what you’ve told me about that elven princess of yours, I’m sure she’s just fine.  She sounds like a gift from Gaia, that one.  I’ll bet she’s fighting to get to you as we speak.”

A year… Cal knew that nobody could fight for that long, all alone, against unfavorable odds, and still be alive.  And that was assuming she wasn’t killed by the lava.  Cal remembered the meeting with Gaia in the strange room at the center of the earth.  Gaia was not afraid of making sacrifices for the good of the whole.  He knew very well that she would kill her own daughter if it meant saving the world from the Phantom Lord.

He faked a smile for the kindly old lady, in case she was watching, and said, “I suppose you’re right.” 

Another tear scrolled down his cheek against his best efforts to control it.  It was all over now.  Even if he did, somehow, manage to escape the Phantom Lord there was no Erroyle to go back to.  He couldn’t go back to his old kingdom given the mess he’d made as he left, and he was certain his parents were dead now.  He’d been with the Phantom Lord a year and none of the other prisoners had heard a word about his father or mother.  Cal was alone.

  “Well, well,” came the raspy voice of the goblin jailor.  “Can’t sleep, eh?  I guess we need to work you some more, get you good and tired.”  Cal groaned inwardly.  “Up and at’em, then.  We’ve got the perfect sparring partner for you tonight.”

Cal could hear the keys clatter around in heavy cell door.  “Let those chains down,” The putrid goblin hissed.  “Don’t want any toes crunched like last time.”  Cal had to smile at the memory.  He’d crushed Slithar’s toes the day before by dropping the heavy weights on them when they came to unchain him.  The sound of the crunch was worth the beating after.

Still sore from the bruised ribs, he decided to comply. The weights pulled mercilessly at his joints when he relaxed his muscles.  As he grew stronger, they added more weight, so he must have had about a full grown man’s weight on each limb now.  His sore shoulders complained as the jailor took his time to unlock the shackles.  Cal could hear the heavy weights slunk to the floor as each band was removed.  He didn’t want to see the ugly goblins face so he didn’t bother to use his magical sight.

“Be careful,” Nana said, worriedly from the next cell.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” 

The both laughed as the jailor prodded Cal from behind out of the cell and into the long labyrinth of tunnels leading to the arena. 

“Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine…” Cal counted aloud out of habit.  His old way of finding things was to count his steps everywhere he went.  He found himself doing it often when he wasn’t using his magic to see.  Now, he was doing it out of habit.  Regardless of what the jailor thought, Cal was exhausted.  He was also emotionally drained.  The thought of losing Erroyle had taken the last fight out of him.

The guard prodded him again from behind when he subconsciously stopped to wait for the metal door to be opened.  Cal didn’t move.  The goblin prodded again, much more forcefully causing Cal’s ribs to ignite with pain from the mornings beating.  Cal still did not move.  He knew he had reached the metal door.  He had been counting subconsciously, but his feet knew right where they were, and he didn’t want to run, face-first, into the metal door.  This was a favorite trick of the guards when he had first arrived.  They always wanted to see if he really was blind, and would purposely walk him into solid objects.  Cal was not in the mood to nurse a broken nose.

The guard swung his staff at Cal from behind. 

The magic within him ignited with vengeance.  Cal could feel the room all around him.  He could feel the floor.  He could feel the earth several feet below the floor.  He felt the air whipping around the goblin’s staff.  It was close, but not nearly close enough.  The ancient magic within him awoke.  Time slowed, and then stopped.  Time was his.  He was not as powerful as he was with the dragon, but he was far more powerful than the goblin. 

Cal turned on his attacker, the staff moving ever so slowly towards his leg.  He grasped the staff mid-air, and broke it in two with one hand, grabbing the goblin by the neck with the other hand.  The thick chain binding the shackles on his wrists together shattered as the magic added strength to his now powerful arms.  The goblin lifted easily from the ground and slammed harshly against the solid rock wall behind him. 

The blow had killed the goblin before it could react, and Cal was left holding the lifeless body of the foul creature against the rock wall.  Hot shards of metal from the broken restraints skittered across the floor.  Cal knew immediately that he was in trouble.  He hadn’t even dared to hurt a guard on purpose before.  Unless it was easy to disguise as an accident like dropping the weights on the Slithar’s foot.  But this was different.  He’d killed a guard, and there was no way to disguise what he’d done.

Cal reached out with his magic to see if anyone had seen him.  To his surprise, the metal door he’d been waiting for was already opened.  He felt regret for killing the guard over nothing, but the memories of all the bad things he’d suffered over the last year quickly washed away his remorse.  He needed to hide the body.  Maybe he could push it down some stairs to make it look like an accident.  He remembered there being stairs down one of the training halls, but his mind was too muddled to remember where.  He started counting steps in every direction he could remember.

“One-hundred and seventy-three steps that way,” he said, to the dead guard before hoisting him over his shoulder and running him down the tunnel.  When he reached the steps, he quickly lobbed the body down the stairs and turned to run back to the metal door.  He realized he’d broken the restraints on his arms so he decided to finish the job.  With a stream of fire magic, he melted the manacles from his wrists, feeling the fresh air on them for the first time in a year.

Cal knew that his freedom would be short lived.  He also knew that he’d be missed if he wasn’t in his cell, the arena, the mages’ study, or a training room.  He decided that since the door was already opened that he’d go to the arena.  He started towards the arena in a slow, steady gait.  The longer he walked, the more he felt justified by what he’d done.  He was, after all, a prisoner held under the cruelest of circumstances.  He hated the jailors, all of them, but he knew that that one had no family.   He didn’t even know his name after all this time because the vile creature only barked orders and offered no conversation.  He only knew about the family because of Nana. 

All that aside, he’d just learned that he lost his love, his last reason for hoping for a tomorrow.  What did it matter if he were killed? What did it matter if he were beaten?  It wasn’t like the beatings he got for acting out were any worse than what he went through on a daily basis.  He was going to be a slave for the rest of his life.  Maybe his only escape was to shorten that life. 

By the time Cal reached the arena he had made up his mind.  He was going to commit suicide by belligerence.  He’d try to kill the Phantom Lord, and in so doing, free himself either by death or by the death of his true captor. 

Camp Arcanum

     Camp Arcanum by Josef Matulich is a Horror/Comedy???  I don't know.  I guess it had its moments.  I'm a bit biased though because I've always had a hard time with horror/comedy genre mixes.  It reminds me of watching bad b-rated movies from the 80's and 90's.

     Marc Sindri, our plucky hero, is a tenacious contractor who builds fairgrounds across the nation.  He's commissioned to build renaissance fairground in Arcanum, Ohio, with his partner Eleazor.  Arcanum seems like a sleepy little town (don't they all at first), but of course it has a deep hidden secret.  It's as if the very forces of the underworld have converged in this one area, and every monstrous thing you can think of, lives under the calm facade.  

     Marc is a tool guy.  He seems almost to have a romantic fetish for his tools, but all this comes in handy when the evil is unleashed.  Arcanum is home to witches, demons, monsters, and ghouls, some of which only Marc can see which makes him think his family history of schizophrenia has caught up to him.  And a tentacle monster that would scare the devil.

     As Marc prepares to clear the land, the head of the local witches coven, Brenwyn (great name for a witch), tries to intervene.  It seems, the land where the fair is meant to be built is where the coven practices their Sabbats, and Brenwyn, and her coven, would like to keep it that way.  When interacting with Marc, she finds an irresistible power within him that she'd like to get her hands on.  Marc, in turn, would like to get a hold of her.

     Another witch (or warlock, I guess), Jeremiah, is also keen on Marc's hidden power, and the two covens fight for the rights to the poor contractor.  Marc ends up battling the fall-out with his handy tools.

     The best part about this novel was the zany characters from town.  Mr. Matulich has quite the imagination, I'll give him that.

     If you like the old comedy/horror mix, you'll probably love this.  I'm not a fan, but I was still fairly entertained with the story.  The plot is actually really good.  The characters are unique and consistent.  The writing was good, but some of the phrasing was weird to me, especially Eleazor's dialog.  The action was fast enough to keep you interested, but not so overwhelming that you didn't know what was going on.

     I'll probably give the book 5 stars on amazon because it's actually really well-written, but here I give it

Napoleon Dynamite

     Napoleon Dynamite written and directed by Jared and Jerusha Hess (husband/wife duo) is an insanely popular, cult classic, indie film.  

     If, by some weird circumstance, you haven't seen this yet, I'll warn you up front; it's one of those movies which are so dumb they're funny.  The first time I watched this, I really didn't get why people liked it so much, but you watch it again, and again, and again, and it gets funnier every time.

     This is a perfect example of what makes a good indie film.  Napoleon Dynamite simply relates to a large audience on a personal level.  There are no special effects.  The "big" actors are basically D-list celebrities.  Tina Marjorino (Deb) was in a few things before-the biggest you may know her from is Water World.  Efren Ramirez (Pedro)was actually in a lot of things before Napoleon Dynamite. I didn't even know that until I did this review. Jon Gries (Uncle Rico) had been in a ton of little roles before Napoleon Dynamite, but I didn't recognize him until this movie.  And then there are the cameo-like appearances by Diedrich Badern (Rex the karate guy), and Haylie Duff (Summer), but the movie focuses on the previously unknown actors; namely Jon Heder (Napoleon) and Aaron Ruell (Kip).  

     The Hess duo made this film for the Sundance Film Festival with a budget of $400,000.  This actually kind of surprised me because I thought it was just a couple of idiots with a camera filming in Idaho.  I even went to school with a bunch of the extras in the movie.  Most of the $400,000 went to the D-list actors, though.  Surprisingly, Jon Heder was only paid $1000 for his role as Napoleon!  When the movie grossed over $46 million, he renegotiated, and received fair compensation.

     Okay, so what made this so great?  The plot was basically a loser going through the typical problems of high school in a small town.  Napoleon lives with his grandmother and 32 year-old brother in Preston, Idaho.  When his grandmother breaks her coccyx during a four-wheeling accident, their uncle Rico comes to take care of them and ruins Napoleon's life.

     I thought the movie was supposed to be set in the 80's or 90's, but it was actually supposed to be set in 2004.  The 80's and 90's apparel and ambiance was actually supposed to signify that the small town is out of touch with the rest of the world, and stuck way behind in the times.  I still like to think of it as taking place in my childhood years, though.  The directors wanted to create a feeling of nostalgia with the out of date surroundings.  They could have just as easily said that the film took place back then.

     I guess what makes this film great is the hilariously stupid one-liners.  The story is relatable because nothing fantastic happens.  It's like watching a home movie.  The characters aren't over-acted.  Like I said, I honestly thought it was just a couple of idiots with a camera shooting in the town they grew up in.  It's great because it's so bad.

     The Hess duo followed Napoleon Dynamite with Nacho Libre, with a way larger budget ($32 mil), and less return ($80 mil).  Nacho Libre also has a cult following, but not nearly as big as Napoleon Dynamite did; 2.5 x investment vs 160 x investment. It just goes to show that more money, more well-known actors, and better equipment do not equal a better movie.  

     Napoleon Dynamite taught me that with a different idea, you can be successful.  It doesn't even have to be a good idea, just something that nobody has really done, and that people can relate to.

     I recommend Napoleon Dynamite to anyone who hasn't seen it, but you have to watch it more than once to really get it.  I give it 

Ups and Downs

     This week's been full of ups and downs.  As the old year went out, and the new came in, I spent a lot of time reflecting on life.  There are so many things I would have liked to accomplish, but didn't.  There are so many things I would like to accomplish this year, but I feel overwhelmed even thinking about them all at once.  

     There is so much in life to accomplish.  There are limitless possibilities in life.  Sometimes it feels like those possibilities become more limited as we grow up.  That leads to frustration, and a feeling of incompleteness.  That's what I was experiencing last week, and earlier this week.  

     From the time I was 5, I wanted to be a doctor.  I know that a lot of kids want to be doctors and lawyers and astronauts and all that when they grow up, but I really, truly, wanted to be a doctor.  I never grew out of it.  I think it first started when my grandfather died during a heart operation.  I was little, and I remember thinking that grandpa was invincible.  He was a slender, healthy man.  My grandparents on the other side were overweight, and we (being innocent little kids) would call them fat grandma and grandpa, and skinny grandma and grandpa.  It sounds horrible now, but back then, it was just what we called them, and they didn't seem to mind (at least not to a 5 y/o's sensibility).  Well, the grandpa that died was the "skinny" grandpa.  He had a heart attack, and we went to see him in the hospital before his operation.  Everyone was crying, and I wondered why because he looked perfectly fine.  He died on the operating table.  I remember thinking that I wished I could do something about it.  I must have said something to my parents because they told me I should be a doctor, then I could.  So I decided I wanted to be a doctor.

     My "fat" grandma died of cancer when I was a teenager.  I remember going to the library and looking up things about cancer.  I tried learning things so that I could help her.  I was still young, and couldn't do much to stop the inevitable. 

     When I started high school, I had my whole life planned.  I took advanced Chemistry, Biology, Math, and even English classes.  I even did an externship my senior year, and graduated high school with 52 college credits, and an applied science degree as a medical assistant.  Now days, that doesn't mean much (I don't think they even require anything to be an M.A. anymore, but I could be wrong), but back then it was a competitive field.

     I worked for a few doctors, and then I served an L.D.S. mission in Brazil.  By this point I was certain I wanted to work with cancer patients.  I would bore my missionary companions about all of the ideas I had about treating cancer patients.  I got to use a bit of my medical experience in Brazil when I became the Assistant to the President, and I was partially responsible for the well-being of the 254 young men and women serving missions in our area.

     When I got home from Brazil, life happened.  My girlfriend, now wife, was waiting for me, and we got married just 2 months after I returned.  I came home on a Wednesday, went looking for jobs Friday, and started working the following week as a salesman so that I could afford a ring.  I did fairly well as a salesman.  I worked for Qwest (the old local phone company) and did so well that they invited me to their corporate offices in Denver to share my "secrets of success" with them.  They turned me into a traveling sales rep. to teach their other offices what I was doing.  They paid me a lot of money.  I got distracted from my goal.

     When I got tired of traveling, I quit.  I wanted to get back on track.  The only problem was that we had bought a house based on my large salary with Qwest.  I had to stay in sales to keep up our life-style, and it still wasn't enough.  On top of that, the sales hours were horrendous, and I still couldn't do school.  

     It was about this time that my health issues began to become a problem.  I had started vomiting almost every day, and had all sorts of other digestive issues.  I was going to doctors almost non-stop.  It was about this time that my wife and I decided it was time for me to really get back on track.  I quit my job to do school full-time and she went back to work.  I was looking for a fast way to catch up on lost time, and found a computer programming school that would give me a 4-year degree in 2 because we did like 21-27 credit hours every trimester.  I figured that the computer skills would be good, and convinced myself that medical schools would like the diversity when considering me when I applied.

     My health took a turn for the worst, and I eventually had to quit the chaotic schedule of so many credit hours at once.  I don't know if the stress, lack of sleep, or other issues that accompany school, made my illness worse, or if it was just the progressive aspect of the disease, but I was terribly ill when I quit.  I had to go back to sales, and worked for an inbound sales company which allowed me to work from home.  I had my first seizure shortly thereafter.  

     After the seizures started, I had troubles concentrating, and began to forget things easily.  The other issues with my digestive system got worse, and I was slowly wasting away.  Within a couple of years I was bedridden.  The nausea and throwing up got so bad that I couldn't even do the phone job at home.  The doctors didn't think I'd make it.  My blood was so thick that I had a couple of mini-strokes.

     Instead of becoming a doctor, I became a patient.  I was devastated.  I began to feel worthless, and stopped dreaming about the future.  I even became suicidal.  My wife helped me through those rough years, and helped me to start writing.  It was my second most favorite thing to do.  

     I wrote Dragon Sight while I was sick.  I have it as the second book in my series, but I actually wrote it first.  Cal, my protagonist, is blind.  I basically expressed what I was feeling through his interactions with the world, and his frustrations over his handicap.  I had dreams, and felt like there was something special inside of me that I no longer had access to.  Cal has a hidden power within, but he can't control it.  In his mind, he is just a worthless blind boy.  That was how I felt back then.

     A lot of things have changed from then to now.  We moved to a lower elevation to help with my thick blood.  I got on the right meds, totally changed my eating and sleeping habits, and through a combination of holistic and medical help I've returned to a somewhat normal, if limited, lifestyle.  I still can't do most of what I want, but I'm no longer bedridden.

     I wrote my second book as I was recovering.  Dragon Warrior was about my inner strength returning.  Apoc, my second protagonist, is almost flawless.  He does everything right.  He never lets anyone down.  He's decisive, driven, and pretty much fantastic.  He's who I want to be - who I feel I am inside.

     So, as I'm looking at 2015, I'm wondering what I want to do with my life, now.  Am I stuck as Cal, or can I move on and be Apoc?  

     I can't be a doctor.  I get tired after going grocery shopping, so I would never have the energy for all of the running around doctors do, let alone the horrible schooling schedule.  I can't even do most jobs other people can do.  I still have a passion for medicine, though.  

     I have also cultivated my passion for writing.  I don't know which I like more anymore.  I face the difficulties every aspiring writer faces.  How do I get published?  Now that I'm self-published, how do I advertise?  Where do we make room for the money it takes to pay for editors, cover designers, advertising, etc.?  It's all very daunting.  On top of all of that, I have difficulty writing because my head is muddled most days either from meds or the disease.  I still struggle with self-doubt, and self-esteem issues.  And I'm trying to write a third book which ties the first two together nicely, but I haven't yet reconciled the two personalities within me, nor have I resolved which is winning.  The third book has Apoc and Cal on opposite sides of the same conflict, and one of them has to be declared a winner.  I have a lot of ideas as to how I want the story to play out, but because I've patterned the first two books after my own inner conflicts, I wanted to keep the same theme for the third.  The problem lies in the fact that my own issues have not been resolved.  As a result, I frequently have "writer's block".

     So this last week, as I've been contemplating what I want to do with my life over the next year, I've had a lot of ups and downs.  

     I want to continue to improve physically, and with my health, but I don't know what else I can do.  Doctors are happy that I've returned to as much normalcy as I have, but I'm not quite satisfied because I still miss out on so much. (I know I should be grateful for what I've regained, but I'm just running you through my thoughts and feelings here.)

     I want to progress with my writing, but finances, and that pesky writer's block have been getting in the way.

     I want to find a way to get back into the medical field, on the other side of the exam table, but my health is still a major issue.

     What I finally realized the last couple of days is that I'm trying to swallow the world whole.  It's too much to take in all at once.  I've done a lot of research on goal setting to share here on my blog, and I've learned that if you get overwhelmed, you need to break your goals down into steps.  That's what I'm hoping to do in 2015.  

     I want to finish book 3.  It's something I have control over.  If I finish writing it, I may have better perspective to adapt it to my life.  I have minimal control over the financial limitations to edit, design, and promote the book, but who knows, by the time I've finished writing it I may have made enough from the first two books to have it professionally edited and designed.  The one thing I can do is finish it.

     As far as the medical aspect of my life... I think I've come up with a solution for that, too.  I see a lot of sick people when I go in to the hospital.  I thought I might share some of my talent with them.  I read indie books every week, maybe I can read to them.  I love to write short stories, and have had fun writing with my daughter, so maybe I can write with the kids who need someone to take their minds off of their scary surroundings.  I haven't worked it all out yet, but I might be able to write a book with a child, and share the royalties with them to help with medical bills.  Children's books aren't my specialty, but even if they don't get published, I'm sure it will be good for the kids to do something besides sit in bed and watch T.V.  I did that for almost 5 years and I can say, with some authority, that it sucks.  T.V. gets very boring after a while.

     I just want my life to mean something again.  I need dreams.  I need a future.  Everybody does.  Goals are a big deal to me right now.  

Ready for school to start

Goals... Again

     Okay, so I know I posted about goal setting last week, but I've still been working on goals for 2015.  I came across this syllabus from a college professor about goal setting.  It was awesome, so I'm posting it here.  This is not my work, and I'm not going to filter it into my own words because I really liked the things he emphasized.

Tips for Writing Goals and Objectives

Although many different courses will cover in depth writing goals and objectives for health promotion programs, grants, and organizations, we have compiled a few tips to help write your goals and objectives early in your career.

What are goals and objectives?

A goal is an overarching principle that guides decision making. Objectives are specific, measurable steps that can be taken to meet the goal.
For example:
Goal - Develop an increased understanding of careers in health education by the end of the Fall 2015 semester
Objectives - Find five job descriptions for health education related jobs by the beginning of December
 Interview two current health education professionals by the end of November
 Identify three organizations that employ health educators by the end of September

A common way of describing goals and objectives is to say that :
Goals are broad Objectives are narrow
Goals are general intentions Objectives are precise
Goals are intangible Objectives are tangible.
Goals are abstract Objectives are concrete.
Goals are generally difficult to measure Objectives are measurable

These are not the only definitions of goals and objectives. Goals and objectives are used in different ways for different purposes and several of your classes will offer you greater insight into using goals and objectives.

Throughout your master programs, you will come to appreciate the importance of measurable goals. Measurable goals and objectives are essential for evaluating progress. Your personal goals are no different. A useful way of making goals and objectives more powerful and measurable is to use the SMART mnemonic. While there are plenty of variants, SMART usually stands for:

S Specific
M Measurable
A Attainable
R Relevant
T Time-bound

For example, instead of saying “I will talk to people about health education” say “I will interview three current health educators including questions about their position and career development by December 1, 2016”.

Bloom's Taxonomy of Cognitive Objectives

Bloom's taxonomy of cognitive objectives, originated by Benjamin Bloom and collaborators in the 1950's, describes several categories of cognitive learning. These stages can be useful when writing your goals and objectives.

 Knowledge - Ability to recall previously learned material.
 Comprehension - Ability to grasp meaning, explain, restate ideas.
 Application - Ability to use learned material in new situations.
 Analysis - Ability to separate material into component parts and show
relationships between parts.
 Synthesis - Ability to put together the separate ideas to form new whole,
establish new relationships.
 Evaluation - Ability to judge the worth of material against stated criteria.

Useful Verbs for Writing Goals and Objectives

Define
Identify
List
Name
Recall
Recognize
Record
Relate
Repeat
Underline
Choose
Cite examples of
Demonstrate use of
Describe
Determine
Differentiate
between
Discriminate
Discuss
Explain
Express
Give in own words
Identify
Interpret
Locate
Pick
Report
Restate
Review
Recognize
Select
Tell
Translate
Respond
Practice
Simulates
Apply
Demonstrate
Dramatize
Employ
Generalize
Illustrate
Interpret
Operate
Operationalize
Practice
Relate
Schedule
Shop
Use
Utilize
Initiate
Analyze
Appraise
Calculate
Categorize
Compare
Conclude
Contrast
Correlate
Criticize
Deduce
Debate
Detect
Determine
Develop
Diagram
Differentiate
Distinguish
Draw conclusions
Estimate
Evaluate
Examine
Experiment
Identify
Infer
Inspect
Inventory
Predict
Question
Relate
Solve
Test
Diagnose
Arrange
Assemble
Collect
Compose
Construct
Create
Design
Develop
Formulate
Manage
Modify
Organize
Plan
Prepare
Produce
Propose
Predict
Reconstruct
Set-up
Synthesize
Systematize
Devise
Appraise
Assess
Choose
Compare
Critique
Estimate
Evaluate
Judge
Measure
Rate
Revise
Score
Select
Validate
Value
Test