The Journey of SILVER BROWN

Chewing The Cud

The two most recent chapters I’ve been editing lately are being stripped and fused together. There was too much needless exhibition that bogged down the story in the earlier drafts, so I’ve begun the process of gutting all that in order to grow a new literary Frankenstein from the tissue samples that remain. This will make for a better kickoff into the next act, methinks. Not to mention it’ll leave more creative room for The Lads to take on more horrifying guises.

Writing is never a waste of time. Even if you don’t use something you write, there’s always a reason why you wrote it. I save every morsel of prose I have ever composed, good or bad. My past life as a web developer begat that habit. The conventional wisdom in web development is that unused code snippets should never be deleted while a website is under construction. They should merely be commented out, for you never know if or when they might come in handy. The same principle applies to written prose. If a passage gets extracted from a manuscript for whatever reason, there’s a special file where I put it for safekeeping, in case I feel that need to regurgitate it for later.


The Journey of SILVER BROWN

₪KLAVERIOS: An Island in Pictures

I wasted yet another perfectly good afternoon devising a couple of more diagrams similar to the ones at the very beginning of the book. Once I get a few more of the kinks in these maps ironed out, they will be inserted into the manuscript as a visual lead-in to the second act, for all the vivacious editing I’ve been doing on the first act is currently nearing completion.

These diagrams represent a top and side view of ₪KLAVERIOS, the home island of a powerful warlock who becomes an important character in Act II. It’s cone-shaped with a lone point of entry on one end of it and a wall on the other. A steep hill in between. A hill that is certainly worth the considerable effort it takes to climb, for in the middle of that wall is a mysterious portal that leads to the Valhalla District. Where the warlock lives. He’s a member of the Society of Wheel Turners, a cybermagickal organization which has one Kent Fairholt on its payroll, among others. So Kent and the warlock go way back. When the next version of the ebook is published, I will leave it up to the aforementioned Mr. Fairholt to explain the Wheel Turners to you in detail.

The portal to the Valhalla District is entirely controlled by the warlock’s pet. He’s a serpent-formed security program named Sweetheart, but he’s a tad bit hard to make out on these maps.



The Journey of SILVER BROWN

Behind The Wall Of Sleep

Due to its potency, and the bevy of perils that could possibly be wrought from its misuse, methinks written prose should ideally be allowed time to breathe prior to consumption. Like a bottle of wine. Or this guy’s brain. Take your pick.

If you can’t watch a movie like this and sleep like a baby on the same night, you’ll probably find the rest of this blog post completely useless.

Specifically, it is foolhardy to publicize a written work on the same day it was composed. You have to sleep on it at least once before entertaining any vague notion of letting somebody else read it. At the (very unfortunate) risk of sounding like your mama, a good night’s rest assists both the body and the mind to purge themselves of waste. Which is kind of important. After a good mindshitting, you’re a new (wo)man. You can approach your work with a clearer conscience. This is something my crazy boss never understood. The one with the magna cum laude degree from Harvard who went insane and stabbed a dude. Sleep was taboo to her. She could never be bothered to excrete her own mindshit because she was too busy running the world, and eventually found herself with a massive pulsating backlog of that ectoplasmic goop which ruptured all over the news.

The work itself likewise needs time to sit and rest periodically. Sometimes the best thing to do with a project is put it off to the side and not fuck with it for a while. Just let it age, like Kentucky bourbon. A quote that’s stuck with me for many years is that enlightenment is like a cat. If you chase after it, it will run from you. But if you remain still and free your mind of expectations, the cat will jump right into your lap. It’s good that I can just allow the cats to come to me now, after many years of working for somebody who was always insistent on chasing them (and extremely hostile towards any suggestion that chasing them might not be the best way to go). One of those cats just told me to leak more information about the nature of the Environment in the chapter I’m editing now. But not too much.