The Writing Gamer Geek

So, as you’ve noticed, I’ve taken a sort of week-long holiday from the blog.  I apologize.  And here I started a Harry Potter fan-fiction that, judging from the amount of likes those posts have received, has captivated a few of you guys.  Don’t worry, I’ll be posting another scene for that story as soon as I can.  But in the meantime, while I was on my little “holiday,” I found myself captivated once again by an old hobby of mine: gaming.

Now of course this is a writing blog, so I’m not about to go and start raving about good and bad games and all that.  But gaming, when you think about it, is basically one of today’s many new forms of creative narrative.  Games require good stories in order to be successful.  That’s why, as mentioned on one of my previous posts, the occupation of being a writer in the gaming industry comes as no surprise at all.

So let’s look at my own personal favorite game as an example of good storytelling: World of Warcraft.  Yep, I’m one of those gamer geeks — but before you judge me as being the typical WoW tank who’s in it for nothing but the PvP, I actually pay 15 bucks a month for the more artistic side of the game.  The breathtaking scenery, the fantastical mounts, the unique social atmosphere… and the stories.  World of Warcraft’s lore is like no lore I’ve ever experienced on other games, and that’s what makes it so captivating.  It’s like immersing yourself into a book or film, and actually being a part of it by doing quests that follow along the major plotlines of major characters — like the Lich King in Northrend, Lady Sylvanas for the Horde players in Tirisfal Glades, and I know there are numerous others I haven’t even experienced yet.  All of these stories had to come from somewhere, whether it was by a team of writers or one in particular.  I can’t imagine how fantastic it would be to actually be part of something like that, and then to see your story come to life in gaming cinematics and quests that players can do.  Part of me almost thinks that’s better than writing books, simply for the communal aspect that comes along with writing for a game.  You’re not just alone with your laptop all the time, writing a story that entirely depends on you — which can be a pleasant thing, too — but you’re part of a team of creators and artists all working for the same thing: captivating an audience on more levels than just good literature.

It’s an intriguing concept, to say the least.  Honestly, it would probably be one of the better ways for a writer to earn a substantial income — even though it’s a hard position to obtain, with all the competition.  But hey, it all comes down  to keeping your eyes open for opportunities.

Fan-Fiction: Harry Potter, Scene 3

Personal Photo from Universal Orlando

The hours crept by with Albus lying in his four-poster, eyes widely awake and staring at the dark ceiling above.  His watch read 11:50 when he heard a rustle of blankets and the slight creak of floorboards.  He peeked over the edge of his sheets, spotting James’ dark figure pass into the stairway leading down to the common room.  After the shadow of his brother disappeared down the steps, Albus let his head fall back into his pillow, eyes back up to the ceiling.  Now that the moment had finally arrived for a decision to be made, Albus could almost feel time speeding up as his mind raced with uncertainty.  It took until he heard a small clatter echo from the stairway that he slowly sat upright, paused for a moment, and slid out of bed.  He grabbed his glasses and his wand from his bedside table, a black sweatshirt draped from his bedpost, and he slid into his pair of converse shoes.  Stepping lightly, he made it to the stairway without a sound, descending down to the dimly lit common room.

The fireplace was glowing gently, as it did throughout the night, illuminating the red chairs encircling it.  James sat perched on the edge of one, his face flickering in the firelight as he bent over the map resting in his hands.  He was wearing a black hoodie as well, a good color for blending in.  He didn’t even look up as Albus approached, seating himself on the large sofa next to him.

“It hasn’t appeared yet,” James said in a distracted monotone, eyes trained on what Albus knew to be the Great Hall.

“You’re not even surprised that I showed up?” Albus murmured.

“I knew you would.  Y’know, let’s just head down there.” He got to his feet, folding the map.  “At least then we’ll be right there if it does show up. Mischief managed.” He gave the parchment a tap with his wand before tucking it into his back pocket.  He gave Albus a little grin, eyes shining in the flickering light. “Ready?”

Albus gave only a sigh and a shrug in reply, standing up from the sofa.  With that, he followed as James led the way through the portrait hole into the dark corridor.  They crept along the wall to the tapestry Albus had followed James to before, behind which there was a stairway which led down to the second floor.  That was where they had nearly been caught by Filch last time.  After that, they only had to risk descending the grand staircase down to the entrance hall and, finally, to the Great Hall.

“James,” Albus whispered as they crept down the hidden stairway, careful not to trip in the darkness. “Do you have any plan?”

“Any plan?” James repeated with obvious confusion.

“For… y’know, if… if it’s really him.”

James didn’t reply for a moment, but after a few more steps, he came to a halt. Albus could hardly see him in the gloom, but he could tell that James had turned to face him. “Do what Dad told us to do,” he said, his voice steady and serious. “We run.”

Albus nodded before he realized James couldn’t see him. “Yeah,” he said quietly, feeling a wave of relief wash over him.  Running is what he would have done anyway.

They continued down the stairs, reaching the tapestry onto the second floor.  James peeked out of the edge, paused a moment to make sure it was clear, and slipped through.  Albus followed, letting the tapestry fall back to obscure the hidden passage once again.  Now came the tricky part with the pair of them being out in the open, but it seemed to progress without incident. They walked slowly and quietly, though Albus winced every time his shoe accidently made a slight slap against the stone floor.  They arrived to the grand staircase, the periodic sound of scraping stone providing a shred of comfort.  At least they wouldn’t have to worry too much about their feet making noise amidst the sound of the moving staircases.  James leaned out of the second floor corridor, glancing up and down.

“No Filch,” he whispered. “Let’s go— quickly, Al.” With that, the pair of brothers descended the stairwell as quickly as they could, arriving to the first landing, then waiting with nerve-wracking suspense for the next staircase to move toward them to take them down to the entrance hall corridor below.  It was currently leading to a doorway across from them, but had just dislodged itself from the wall.  The rate at which it swung toward them was agonizingly slow, with James muttering under his breath repeatedly, “Come on, come on…”

Before it even had the chance to properly latch onto their platform, the two of them practically leaped onto its stairs and took them two at a time, almost collapsing into the first floor corridor.  They stood there for only a moment, waiting for their heart rates to even out.  They exchanged glances, James with a victorious half-smile and Albus with a sigh of relief.

“Check the map,” Albus said, straightening to lean back against the corridor’s wall.

With his wand already in his hand, James reached behind him and tugged out the map from his pocket.  “Lumos,” he said, the tip of his wand illuminating itself with a steady white glow, before he set to unfolding the map to its center-creased page.  He aimed his wand.  “I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good,” he whispered.  The ink slowly began appearing word by word, but James had already begun unfolding it to the section of the Great Hall.

Albus leaned over to get a better view, just as James flipped the next fold over to reveal the Great Hall.  There was a single name hovering in the center, clear and vivid on its scroll-like label.  It was Tom Riddle, there was no mistaking it.  Both James and Albus stared at it for a moment, as though both of them expected it to disappear in a second as per the usual, but it remained drifting there for what felt like a full minute.

Albus looked up, meeting James’s eyes. “You sure about this?”

“We came this far,” James answered, lowering the map. “Besides, it’s impossible.  He’s dead.”

They paused for a moment longer, Albus looking apprehensively down the short corridor to the entrance hall, seeing the door to the Great Hall illuminated by the moonlight from the castle windows.  He rolled his lips between his teeth, biting them down hard for a second, before giving a nod.

“Let’s go.” James took Albus by the hand and, after they both made sure there was no sign of Filch or his cat, Mrs. Norris, they crossed the wide expanse of the entrance hall and came to the large double door of the Great Hall.  James didn’t even hesitate to push the door open and pull Albus inside, more for the risk that they could be seen the longer they lingered outside.  It was silent as it fell closed behind them, with not even the sound of a latch clicking.

Starlight and moonlight illuminated the Great Hall with a pale hue due to the bewitched ceiling above.  Albus and James both stayed with their backs to the door just in case they had to make a quick getaway, but they wasted no time in training their eyes onto the center of the room where, to their horror, there was indeed a slender humanoid figure standing alone in the middle of the four long tables, its back to them.

Dealing with Criticism

When it comes to criticism, I’m one of those writers who are prone to overreacting.  I take things personally.  One of the most difficult things to do as a writer is to not take criticism personally– to try to see past the negative and turn it into something constructive.  But of course, we all know that’s easier said than done.  If you haven’t yet experienced a rejection of your own written work from a magazine or publishing company, you certainly remember what it was like back in either high school, college, or graduate school.  You have worked for hours, even days — maybe even weeks — on this essay.  By the time you’re editing your finished product, you feel as if your heart and soul has been poured into the pages.  It might not be beautiful, but heck– you spent so much hard work on it, it’s bound to get a good grade.  You hand it in, feeling as though you’re handing a piece of your heart to the professor.  Days pass.  Maybe a week.  You either start fretting about that vulnerable piece of your heart, or you try to forget it ever existed.  Then the day comes.  The professor enters the classroom with the pile of essays in his folder.  He hands them out, slowly.  Too slowly.  At last, your essay slides in front of you, and your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach upon seeing the scrawling red ink upon the first page, the second page, the notes in the margins, the circles, the underlines, the cross-outs… Then comes the paragraph of scribbled red text on the last page, and you know just by the length of it that it can’t be good… And lastly, below the paragraph of insulting proportions, the grade: “C.”

You’re feeling the tension already, aren’t you?  It’s like you’ve been physically punched in the stomach.  Well, you’re a writer, so you better get used to it.  There will always be the critical review, the refusal of an entry, the negative comment.  The initial impulse to scream, cry, or simply binge on self-pity ice cream will always be your first response.  I even heard of a writer who took a book written by the woman who gave him a bad review, and he littered it with bullets.  No kidding.  The secret is simply this: toughen up — develop a thick hide and look at every bad comment with an objective point of view.  Take what you can out of it, learn from it, and if you can’t do either of those things — close the tab and never look at it again.  And always remember that you’re not the only one to suffer from bad criticism!  Even the best writers received negative reviews on their first entries.  As Michael Seidlinger, the author of The Laughter of Strangers, says, “The best anyone can do is steel up and remain objective. If not, a stiff drink and a night of friendly conversation never hurts to remind you that we’re all human and, in some way, hurting.”

Then What’ll Be Your REAL Occupation?

It’s not like people voice this question, but their expression says it all.  It’s Thanksgiving or Christmas, I’m with all my lovely family members, and there’s always the question: “So, what’s your major again?  Oh, writing?  Will you be a teacher?”  No, I say as nicely as I can, struggling not to let my annoyance leak into my voice.  And that’s when the expression appears, the confusion, perhaps even a hint of concern for my sanity. I can hear the question tumbling around in their heads, “Then what are you actually going to do to make money?”  I’m sure artists and musicians are familiar with this problem as well.  But you see, people are simply obliviously unaware as to the real potential of the writing profession.  I mean, sure, there’s writing for your own self-employed benefit, which many ignorant people immediately see as a red flag signalling a black hole of poverty, but there are so many more options.  Even I was unaware of a few of these occupations, but upon being enlightened to such things, it makes complete sense.  And it’s pretty encouraging to know that there are more options out there for writers like us.  So, without further ado, here we go:

1. Advertising Copywriter.  All those catchy slogans you hear on the radio or on TV had to come from somewhere. If you’re good with quick quips and witty words, this could be perfect for you.  And it’s not just verbal advertisements now-days — it’s the creative sayings you see on websites, the displays in store windows, on billboards, in catalogs, or even on your cereal boxes.
2. Blogger. That’s right!  Blogging can actually turn a profit!  The first step is to allow businesses to advertise on your website for a fee that goes straight to your pocket.  Google around– you might be surprised at how easy blogging for a profit actually is.
3. Ghostwriter.  So you’re not especially good at inventing your own stories.  Well, there are people who are good at inventing stories, but lack the talent for writing.  That’s where ghostwriters come in.  They partner with someone and write their story, but be warned: this can be a tricky business when it comes to compensation.
4. Newspaper Columnist.  You’d think this would be an obvious occupation for writers, but it’s surprising how often writers forget about it.  And it’s not just being a journalist — you can get involved in the reviewing food and the arts, even the local entertainment.  Keeping a regular column will get you enough fame that people will view you as an expert in the topics you write about.
5. Proofreader.  You can be either self-employed or employed by a place like Penguin Books.  If you’re a perfectionist with a good eye for detail, this would be good for you. With a knack for grammar and spelling, authors and publishers will love you.
6. Resume and Cover Letter Writer. A less entertaining occupation, but still involves the proper techniques of writing well while retaining a formal method of captivation for employers.  If you’re good with business writing rather than creative writing, this is quite fitting for you.
7. Scriptwriters or Screenwriters.  Often a forgotten occupation, but very vital to today’s entertainment.  And keep in mind, this isn’t just about play-writing, but writing for actual film and television scripts.  Think Doctor Who and Sherlock’s brilliant Steven Moffat — a writer I personally believe to be one of the best when it comes to writing for television.
8. Video Game Writer.  Bet’cha didn’t think of this one, did you?  Every single video game has a story element, as well as required speech for characters and formation of game lore.  And if you’re not into actually creating the story element, there are editors who are also employed by the gaming industry to look over character’s speech or narration for errors.
9. Executive Assistant.  These guys are there for every briefing or report documents, even thank you notes to employees or visiting partners.  It’s amazing how much every business uses their executive assistants for every task that involves writing or editing.
10. Grant Proposal Writer.  You know those scholarships you might’ve received back when you started college?  Did you think they just miraculously appeared as text on a page?  ‘Course not.  There are writers and editors what form every single one of those grants and scholarship letters not only for colleges, but non-profit organizations as well.

So there’s a short list of a few forgotten writing occupations to surprise those concerned relatives.  Are there any other ones I might have missed that you’ve heard of?  Feel free to share in the comments!

Blunt and Brilliant

I managed to stumble across a brilliant article today that has a list of quotes from famous writers concerning the “art” of writing.  I put quotation marks for a reason.  These writers plainly state that writing is not just some fancy falootin’ art like slapping paint onto a canvas– it’s hard, grueling work that you must be completely serious about.  If you doubt yourself, if you’re prone to reacting badly to criticism, writing isn’t for you.  I speak bluntly when I say writing is serious business.  But here’s the encouragement: no writer, no matter how famous they are today, started out flawless.  Every single one of them received cruel notes of rejection upon their first manuscript.  As the saying goes, Rome wasn’t built in a day!  It takes disciplined practice, and a firm belief in what you’re writing.

Here’s a portion of the list of quotes from the article, just in case you’re too lazy to click the link to the article itself:

“The first draft of everything is shit.” – Ernest Hemingway

“If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second greatest favor you can do them is to present them with copies of The Elements of Style. The first greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they’re happy.” – Dorothy Parker

“I would advise anyone who aspires to a writing career that before developing his talent he would be wise to develop a thick hide.” — Harper Lee

“There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.” ― W. Somerset Maugham

“If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time — or the tools — to write. Simple as that.” – Stephen King

“Imagine that you are dying. If you had a terminal disease would you finish this book? Why not? The thing that annoys this 10-weeks-to-live self is the thing that is wrong with the book. So change it. Stop arguing with yourself. Change it. See? Easy. And no one had to die.” – Anne Enright

“If writing seems hard, it’s because it is hard. It’s one of the hardest things people do.” – William Zinsser

“Prose is architecture, not interior decoration.” – Ernest Hemingway

“Write drunk, edit sober.” – Ernest Hemingway

“Start telling the stories that only you can tell, because there’ll always be better writers than you and there’ll always be smarter writers than you. There will always be people who are much better at doing this or doing that — but you are the only you.” ― Neil Gaiman

“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.” ― Ray Bradbury

 

But of course, writers — you must keep this in mind:

“Don’t take anyone’s writing advice too seriously.” – Lev Grossman

…Except when it comes to the blunt and brilliant Mr. Hemingway.

Fan-Fiction: Harry Potter, Scene 2

The next few days were a blur of classes and assignments.   Albus couldn’t focus on anything school-related, least of all his History of Magic essay due at the end of the week.  All his attention was diverted to the possibility that the most feared wizard of the century was somehow back from the dead.  Every night before getting into bed, he would exchange glances with his brother across the room to where his four-poster sat on the opposite side, and James would shake his head.  Tom Riddle’s name hadn’t appeared once since the night Albus had followed James to the Great Hall.  Even if it had, the likelihood that the brothers could even make it to the Great Hall without being seen was slimmer than it had been before.  Filch was now very much aware of James’ previous attempts after nearly discovering him last time, though he had yet to actually catch him in the act.

Albus’ eyelids began to droop as he slouched in his desk, Professor McGonagall’s voice growing more monotonous with every passing minute.   He hadn’t been able to get any proper sleep over the past few days.  His anxiety and curiosity fought away all efforts of sleep – unfortunately, the only time he managed to succumb to any drowsiness was during lectures.

“Mr. Potter, would you care to enlighten us all to the origin of the transfiguration of wart goblets?”

Albus quickly blinked the sleep from his eyes, straightening in his chair.  He sat there looking attentively, however blankly, at Professor McGonagall.  The fact that she was also Hogwarts’ Headmistress made him feel even more intimidated.  After several seconds’ pause, he managed to stammer, “Er, th-the transfiguration of… Sorry?”

“Wart goblets, Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall repeated, her face as strictly expressionless as usual, however this time her voice held a dangerously sharp edge.

“Wart goblets…” Albus echoed, prying every corner of his brain for what he had skimmed in his reading the night before.  All he managed to remember was something about pigmy puffs.  He sighed, feeling an embarrassed flush rising to his cheeks.  “I don’t know, Professor.”

“Perhaps you should pay better attention then, Potter.” She gave him a sharp look down her long nose, before turning back to the front of the class and giving a flick of her wand, causing a piece of chalk to begin writing her words on the blackboard. “Wart goblets were originally transfigured due to an instance within the thirteenth century.  During a particular gathering of witches and wizards in the area of Yorkshire which involved an auction of owls and other animal companions, there arose suspicion in the local muggle community concerning such an auction.  Thus, when the local authorities came to question the gathered magical folk, a particularly clever wizard was able to transfigure all present animals into wart goblets as a ruse…”

By the time McGonagall’s lecture finally came to an end, the class had been given the assignment to master the Vera Verto transfiguration spell on their pets.  Albus shuffled out of the classroom into the dark, twilit corridors along with his fellow classmates, once again thinking about how he would possibly manage to focus enough of his attention on yet another assignment.

“Al!”

He looked up to see James weaving his way toward him through the throng of students, the anxious expression on his face sending a momentary wave of panic and excitement through Albus.  The pair of them moved to the side of the hallway, allowing the river of people to pass by uninterrupted.

“Al,” James repeated in a hushed, more intense tone as he placed a hand on Albus’s shoulder.  “I saw it.”

Albus felt as though his heart had risen to block his windpipe.  “Just now?”

“At exactly seven o’clock, in the Great Hall again.” Albus couldn’t help but notice that James actually appeared excited about this, as though this was a sighting of Santa Claus.  “I’m going tonight,” he continued, “You coming?”

Albus hesitated, his curiosity and fear struggling to gain a foothold over one another.  “James…” he began haltingly.

Immediately, James’ expression shifted to annoyance. “Sure,” he said, dripping sarcasm. “You follow me when I don’t want you to, but you don’t follow me if I do want you to.  Nevermind, don’t worry about it— I’ll be going tonight at midnight.  It’ll probably be easier without your clumsy footsteps giving me away.”

With that, James molded back in with the crowd, disappearing into the river of black robes.  Albus stayed rooted to the spot, his eyes shifting to the darkening sky outside the castle’s windows.  Something in the back of Albus’s mind nudged him to go straight to the Headmistress’s office and tell Professor McGonagall exactly what was going on, and let an adult deal with this.  But that would mean turning in his brother and their Marauder’s Map – which would undoubtedly end up in Filch’s gnarled hands.

With his heart thumping madly in his chest, Albus headed for Gryffindor tower, books clutched tightly in his hand.  This was going to be a long night.

Readers to Writers

 “I always advise children who ask me for tips on being a writer to read as much as they possibly can. Jane Austen gave a young friend the same advice, so I’m in good company there.”

~ J.K. Rowling

So it seems today’s favorite fantasy writer, the renowned J.K. Rowling, is constantly being poked and prodded for new stories and tidbits from our beloved wizarding world.  There is even a rumor that she will be writing another book within the Harry Potter universe!  If only that were true.  She has stated herself that she believes Harry Potter’s tale is done, as wonderful as it was while it lasted.  For many of us Potterheads, it has been tremendously difficult for us to give up the idea that such a story has truly come to an end after growing up alongside Harry, Ron, and Hermione for the past seventeen yea– Wait, really?  It’s been seventeen years since the first Harry Potter book hit the shelves?

Jeez, I’m old.

But yes, most of us millennials have more Potter in our lives than we do anything else.  So that brings me to the real reason I’m writing this post.  I don’t know if I can speak for anyone else reading this, but I can now say with certainty that if it weren’t for Harry Potter and the wizarding universe, I would not be the writer I am today.  And I’m sure you all are familiar with some variation of that, whether you are writers due to your admiration of Rowling’s writing or due to the writing of another brilliant author.  I do strongly believe that writers are shaped by what we read as children and teenagers.  For me, reading Harry Potter transported me to a world that no other book had ever managed to do — not even C.S. Lewis’s Narnia or Tolkien’s Middle Earth.  Hogwarts became a home to me as it did Harry, and I found myself enraptured by a world that took me beyond my living room couch to a place of nail-biting suspense, laugh-out-loud humor, and the proof that friendships can be as strong — or even stronger — than the bonds of family.  Not only that, but that love truly conquers all.  It wasn’t just reading a story about magic, but rather a story about the importance of human relationships and loyalty to those you love no matter how bad the situation.

I believe it was the fourth book, I can’t remember what scene or chapter, when I decided to become a writer.  I thought, now here’s something that can change the world for the better, something that captivates people and teaches them lessons in a way that is active and engaging.  What other form of entertainment can do that so well?  And so I began to write.  Of course, no one creates a world as intricate and complex as Harry Potter on their first go, but my motivation to reach that level of expertise has not faded.

Perhaps you can relate to that, to the book that made you choose to live out the rest of your days as a writer, and how it gave you the motivation to believe in such an occupation.  Writers have been creating writers since the dawn of the written word; here is proof of that.  So if your motivation is fading, I guess the obvious solution is to read more books!  Or reread the book that made you choose this occupation in the first place.  You won’t believe how fast your desire to write will come back — even if it’s a desire to write fan-fiction.  Hey, at least it’s writing!  It’s something that you’ve created, and it’s you, sitting there on the screen as a tangible piece of yourself.  You never know — perhaps it will morph into the next bestseller, the next stepping stone for more readers to become writers.

Fan-Fiction: Harry Potter, Scene 1

“Come on, Albus– honestly, can you go any slower?” James shouted from the staircase above as it swept overhead, lodging itself in front of the door to the Charms floor.

Albus forced his smaller legs to move faster, scampering up to the next flight of stairs after his brother.  He got to the door just as the staircase began to move beneath his heel, and he jumped the last step into the hallway as James closed the door behind him.  The two Potters stood there for a moment to catch their breath, Albus feeling as though his lungs might burst.  After they had listened in silence long enough to know for sure they hadn’t been followed, they both turned toward the dim-lit corridor they now found themselves in.  The nearest torch was flickering gently, self-illuminated by their presence.

“That was close,” James said between labored breaths, straightening as he brushed back his black hair from his forehead.  After a second or two, his eyebrows pulled together above his brown eyes as they flashed at his younger brother. “If you hadn’t followed me down there–”

“I had to find out what you were doing,” Albus retorted before James could finish. “You go sneaking off out of the dormitory every night, it’s weird.”

James looked ready to shoot back a reply, his shoulders bunching with the rising words of accusation, before deflating along with a huffed sigh.  He paused, looking his brother in the eye as though calculating something.  He then reached into his back jeans pocket, pulling out a folded piece of parchment that was no bigger than a few square inches.

“What’s that?” Albus asked, his voice quieter with intrigue, however still carrying a sharp edge.

James slid his thumb along the parchment’s corner, opening one side, then another, unfolding it until it reached a long rectangular shape with a fold down the center.  “What do you think?” James whispered, one eyebrow raised mischievously along with the quirk of a smile.

Albus frowned, confused, but only for a moment. Suddenly his bright green eyes widened.  “No way… that’s not–”

“It is.” James grinned.  He took out his wand from inside the pocket of his red sweatshirt, aiming it at the parchment. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he recited.  Immediately, intricate script began to appear on the folded page, forming the infamous outline and title of the Marauder’s Map.

Albus gaped for a second, his gape eventually shifting to a smile of disbelief as he looked up at his brother. “How’d you get it?”

“Swiped it from Dad’s desk while Lily was distracting him.”  James opened the map to reveal Hogwarts’ empty entrance hall, devoid of any occupants at this late hour.  “I’ve been seeing something odd on it.  Every night, it’s the same thing.”  He opened it further, folding it to the location of the Great Hall.  It was empty save for the ghostly Bloody Baron drifting along the east wall.  James placed the tip of his wand in the center of the hall.

“Here,” he said, tapping it for emphasis. “Sometimes it’s here, sometimes it’s not, but it’s a name that appears for only a few minutes at a time.”

Albus raised his eyebrows curiously. “What name?”

James lips tightened, the bottom sliding between his teeth for a second as though to keep the name locked within, but after several seconds he managed a whisper. “Tom Riddle.”

~*~*~

Okay, it’s not a Wednesday.  But I’ve been really sporadic with all these posts, so I guess it really doesn’t matter anymore, right?  So I’ve been on a bit of a Harry Potter craze these last few months, and I’ve really been wanting to start writing a little fanfiction of the Harry Potter children during their years at Hogwarts.  Of course, I can’t invent a villain that is as perfectly horrid as Voldemort, so… as impossible and improbable as it may be, I’m bringing him back to terrorize the next generation of Potters!  <que evil laugh>  Later this week, I will be writing a post or two on the lovely Rowling herself — since, in my humble opinion, she is truly the best fantasy and young adult writer in the history of literature, and thus is a fantastic source of inspiration.  Stick around!

A.G. Howard’s “Splintered”

Whenever a new book enters the market claiming that it is a retelling of a classic myth or fairytale, I tend to have my doubts.  Just look at the tale of Cinderella; how many times has it been retold, either via film or novel?  So when I saw this book perched face-up on a shelf in Barnes & Noble several weeks ago and spotted the “Welcome to the real Wonderland” slogan hovering over the bug-laden cover, I felt some apprehension — however, at least Carroll’s story has mainly been retold within the video game genre, so a new book within the world of Wonderland didn’t seem too repetitive compared to other fairytales and their constant clones.  So I snatched it up and brought it home.

I devoured the first five chapters within a week — which is pretty fast for me, considering my crazy college schedule.  The book follows Alyssa, the third generation down from the original Alice, as she struggles with her family’s lineage.  With her great-grandmother having died raving about being locked in a birdcage her entire life, her grandmother jumping from a window under the assumption that she could fly, and with her mother currently locked in an asylum, it seems Alyssa has high chances of falling under this curse of insanity that plagues the women in her family.  And it doesn’t help that she has now developed an unnerving ability to hear the voices of insects around her; the same ability her mother claims to have as well.  The story follows her as she begins to understand why she bears such a connection with the insects of our world, and the implications of sharing the bloodline of the Alice that originally tumbled down the rabbit hole all those years ago.  Perhaps Wonderland isn’t just a fairytale after all, but something entirely real.  With the aid of an unlikely partner that seems to know her better than she knows herself, Alyssa suddenly comes to find herself in a situation that’s more than what she’d bargained for.

The story develops wonderfully, with a good blend of intrigue and revelation within every chapter to keep you reading.   It is definitely a fantasy novel (duh), but it has a decent balance between fantasy and reality– at least, as much of a balance as you can get with Carroll as your inspiration.  Of course Wonderland is crazily unbelievable, but when is it not?  That’s what makes this version of the Alice fairytale such a worthy “sequel,” so to speak.  It’s similar, yet refreshingly new.  Being a teen novel, it’s no surprise that a love triangle is soon to appear between our main heroine and two attractive suitors, but Howard manages to keep such a relationship from being predictable (ahem, Twilight).  However, my one complaint about this book is how it is written for its intended audience.  My guess is that this book is written for the ages of thirteen and above, but there are one or two very steamy scenes that make me cringe and wonder if such vivid romance is right for a young-adult genre.  Perhaps sixteen or seventeen would be the right cutoff for this book, considering these scenes.

Other than that, I was thrilled with this book. The writing was well done, whimsical, and thrilling to read; rather fitting for a book set in Wonderland.  I could tell that she has had some good classes in writing, unlike some lucky authors who sound simplistic and dull in their descriptions and yet manage to write bestsellers (again– ahem, Twilight).

…Yes, okay, I have some very strong feelings toward Twilight.  But hey, if you want an example of how not to write a novel, just look at the first chapter of the first book.  From all the hype that surrounds it, it’s like expecting a nice, juicy steak but getting bland tofu instead.  Splintered, on the other hand, is what an epic fantasy should be — deliciously dripping in all its descriptive and developed juices.

Reviews

Here there will be posts of my thoughts on (mostly new) books I’ve read, and whether or not I recommend them.  Being a big fan of fiction — admittedly, teen fiction — I will probably be writing little reviews on books in that category.  However, since this is a writing blog for writers, I know there are books out there that are written to encourage budding writers to pick up pen and paper.  I will be reading a good few of these kinds of “self-help” books as well, and eventually writing about them as a way to both encourage you to write but also to encourage you to read those books!  After all, the more you read, the better you’ll write.

Now, below are a few book lists.  I believe they’re pretty self-explanatory.

NOW READING:

• The Great Tree of Avalon by T.A. Barron

BOOKS TO READ:

• The Paper Magician by Charlie N. Holmberg
• The Maze Runner by James Dashner
• Legend (book one) by Marie Lu
• More to be added… any recommendations?

COMPLETED REVIEWS:

• Splintered (book one) by A.G. Howard