Poetry

I love when an idea explodes in the back of my mind and the chill runs down my spine.  That's a sign I've had a really great idea.  Okay, great ideas a relatively, so I'll qualify that, a great idea for me, a thought I never had before.  Sometimes that means it's time to write a poem.

It depends on the idea.  Poems best express an image of something.  A man sitting on a couch.  Yellow dandelions in the lawn.  That sort of thing.  That's why imagery in poetry is so important.

Poems also express emotions through tone of voice and word choice.  Think, My Last Duchess by Robert Browning.  I have a poem like this.  I use the image of a smile to represent the hatred the speaker of the poem has for an old girlfriend.

And, of course, poetry can express ideas through metaphor -- a personal favorite; a love a good metaphor, preferably grilled and seasoned with garlic -- and simile.

When you mix all of these elements together -- stirring vigorously -- you can yield good poetry.

If this sounds hard to do, it is.  I've only got about twenty poems I really like or that I think are really good.  And I've got a lot more -- experiments in poetry I call them -- where the ideas don't mesh, the images to support what I've trying to say and the tone of voice is flat and non-expressive.

Of course, not all ideas and poems lend themselves to imagery.  But the tone of voice and the cadence of the line must be there or the poem doesn't work for me.  That's because poems are meant to be read aloud.  It makes a big difference.  I'm going back centuries with this when bards speaking Old English would entertain a large gatherings of people but reciting poems.  This is why a rhyme scheme was essential once upon a time.

Not so much any more.  Most of my better poems ignore rhyme.  It is less important for me, as the following sample illustrates.


The lone mountain peak
Resplendent with its snowcap
like a cotton knitted headpiece
stands majestic and firm across the eons of time.

A nearby brook
sparkling with the afternoon sunlight
like thousands stars at night
runs over the smooth round stones of the riverbed
its flow never-ending and unceasing.

I sit lonely and alone
in my empty house
listening to the clock
that lies upon the wall
ticking in the other room.

Nothing moves except the shadows on the wall.
Nothing stirs as dust descent upon it.

I cannot think of anything but you.
You fill the emptiness with noise and demands
You give me a reason to do and to be
Without you I cease to be
Paralyzed by the void you have left.

I scream to myself that this should not be so
Does the lone mountain or the brook
need anything to keep it company?
No, and neither should I.
But I do
For I am not a river or mountain.

I am a man.
A lonely man.
In love
with his
wife.
Keep writing, everyone.

A Thousand Words a Day

A blog on writing should have a post or two about this topic, something I've not done in awhile, I know.  Of course, I've been busy with other things.  Revision of Book 2 has slowed to a crawl but ironically, I'm writing more poems and short stories.  I don't really understand why.

Perhaps it has something to do with the passing of Ray Bradbury.  On news of this death I immediately cracked open my copy of the October Country, which is a collection of short stories.  I am re-reading them and thinking about them more than I did the first time I read them.  Perhaps this has got my mind thinking of things other than my novels.

Or perhaps the ideas have been lurking there and now that I'm going to be published I've given myself permission to open the floodgates and let the deluge sweep into the valley below and damn the consequences.

I don't know.  All I can say is I'm busier than ever working on all manner of things.  I completed my fifth tale of Marngol and I've created a print version of the first three.  The fourth tale is entered into a competition.  Once I hear back about it, I'll probably add tales 4 and 5 to the collection I started.  Meanwhile, I'm already looking for tale number 6.

At the same time, stories that have taken place in the world of my novels are presenting themselves.  I've already got three written.  The first is out on Smashwords; it's about the first dragon, Asbith and how she died.

The other completed stories are marinating.  The other ideas for stories are waiting but they don't wait quietly.  They rattle the gate to be let out and so I've been taking notes and writing as fast as I can.  Why just yesterday, I banged out Marngol tale #5 about 4000 words in an afternoon.  That wasn't easy and I wasn't even sure where the story was going until about halfway through.

No wonder I'm tried.  I need to rest my mind.  But that's not likely.  The goal, as Bradbury would say, is 1000 words a day.  No small feat.

Oh well.  Keep writing everyone.

The Game's the Thing

I've been taking a break what with the heat in the northeast and my dog passing.  But I thought I'd post this before my computer room gets too hot to use, despite the air conditioning.

My wife, Liz, was playing Bejeweled Blitz the other day on her phone.  And that got me thinking how far gaming has come.  Back when I was in school (high school) Atari Bong was the big thing.  Adventure gaming for desktop computers was just starting.  I played Zork and Enchanter and several other classic Infocom games.  Back then, gamers usually referred to someone who role-played, which usually earned to odd looks because of some bad PR Dungeons & Dragons acquired in the news media.

Now games are everywhere.  My last three or four phones have all had some game that came with it.  And games in mainstream software go back to Windows 3.1 and Solitaire.  The term gamer really means less than it did because just about anyone with a smartphone is likely to be playing games on it.

Personally, I think this is a good thing.  Gaming helps develop various skills, like problem-solving or hand-eye coordination, depending on the game.  It also provides much-needed stress relief.

Tip: If your game does induce stress, you are playing the wrong game.

Games are, and have been for centuries, a metaphor for life.  Chess is the classic example.  Game theory and how you go about solving a puzzle or play a game is very telling about your approach to life.  This is way we need more game playing and more games that teach good lessons or that subtly influence the player.  For example, playing SimCity can very quickly teach anyone to avoid deficient spending because once you over spend you're screwed.  You have to borrow or raise taxes and hope your Sims don't leave town making the problem worse.  That's a big mess.  Moral: don't spend more money than you can afford to part with, which is good advice in real life too.

And the best part about games is the ones with the simplest rules are usually the best.  This is something we need to carryover into software and other design activities.  Simple designs work best.  We tend to forget this because in the words of Mr. Scott, engineers "love to change things."  Change for it's own sake is not always best.

I'm done now.  Back to Castle Age, I think.

She Will Be Missed

At 3AM or so this morning, my dog, Jules, died.  She was sleeping next me when she gave a scream.  I checked her immediately but it was too late.  She was gone.  We went to the animal hospital after bundling her in her blanket and they confirmed what we suspected.  She will be cremated and returned to us.  My sweet little baby dog.

Last November she had been bitten by a tick and contracted Lyme disease.  We tried to fight it and I thought we had gotten her stable.  Apparently I was wrong.  But if her kidneys did not fail then I suppose her had a heart attack.  Who knows?

My one comfort is that she did not suffer much and we were with her when it happened; one should not have to die alone.

I am told all dogs go to Heaven; I can only hope this is true.  Jules deserves no less.  And about the saddest thing I can think of is the death of a five and half pound little Chihuahua who wanted nothing but to be loved.

Yes, Jules will be missed.

We love you little girl.

Social media needs to be organic

I've been looking at my time management because suddenly I'm very busy.  As I prepare for my book launch -- which is months away -- I've been preparing my web site, a media kit, business card, a book trailer and other items I'll want or need.

As part of this, I've decided to write a many short stories as I can and put them in collections.  I've not done this before because short story writing is hard for me.  Ironic.  I can write a multi-book fantasy series, but short stories somehow elude me.

Well, not really.  Short stories need to be focused and to the point and I prefer a wide canvas, showing the way life is, pleasant or not.

As part of my time management review, I've concluded that social media as it is now, it a waste of time.  There is no way I can keep up and go to all the forums and sites I should and post something meaningful unless I give up a good portion of my writing.  And some sites seem completely pointless.  Foursquare comes to mind here.  After using it for a few weeks, I just don't see the point.

To be effective, social media needs to be more organic, like breathing.  I shouldn't have to think about it; if I blog it should automatically go to all the sites I want it to.  Currently that's not true because Blogger doesn't interfere with Tumblr and Tumblr doesn't talk to Blogger.  To get post on Goodreads, I had to set up a pull from the blog's RSS feed, when I would have preferred a push from here, the way Facebook and Twitter are set up.

So I'm going on a social media diet.  Perhaps when this thing is like a Frankenstein's monster and all the pieces fit better together I'll do more.  But right now I'm too busy writing and getting ready for the release of my first novel.