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Recently, I’ve had a lot of new followers to this blog, so I wanted to take a moment while I wait for the stragglers to bring in their final papers to provide a little background for my fantasy series, The Brotherhood of Dwarves.

The central story revolves around a young dwarf, Roskin, who is the heir to a kingdom of dwarves that live underground in an isolated mountain range.  Because of their location, these dwarves have had no enemies for centuries and have been allowed to focus their energies on more than warfare.  As such, they are refined and civilized, renowned for their art, music, and poetry.  In short, they are not your stereotypical dwarves.

But Roskin is young and ambitious, bored with the refinement and yearning for adventure.  By chance, he hears the tale of an artifact stolen from a neighboring kingdom, a statuette that signifies the bond between the races of dwarves.  Seeing an opportunity to make a name for himself, he decides to search for this artifact and return it to its rightful owners.  To do so, he must first find Crushaw, the human who built the fortress where the item is rumored to be held.

Crushaw was once a ruthless, highly skilled general, but was stripped of his rank and exiled to a remote military outpost after refusing to enter a battle.  Having lost his honor, he has descended into alcoholism and lives off the mercy of a dwarven tavern owner, Molgheon.  The adventure follows Roskin and Crushaw as they make their way to the fortress, hunted by both slave traders and soldiers from the army Crushaw once led…

The Brotherhood of Dwarves – Book One

Red Sky at Dawn – Book Two

The Fall of Dorkhun – Book Three

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Thursday Night Ramblings

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I love the craft of writing.  The power of tightly-written, richly-detailed prose excites me.  The way a story can draw me into a new world and allow me access to lives and adventures that I otherwise wouldn’t experience nourishes my soul.  Simply put, I love language and its power to transform this world.  That may sound corny to some, but it’s one of the few truths I know for certain.  Language is power.

Despite my experience as a writing teacher and my small measure of success as a writer, I don’t feel qualified to write a how-to manual for other writers, but I’ve been seriously contemplating developing either a composition handbook or some kind of a textbook for basic essay writing.  I realize there’s no shortage of these on the market, but I would love to gather all of my lectures and lesson plans together and create a book about the fundamentals of strong collegiate writing.

I’d also love to write a book about creativity for my sons.  I envision it as something intimately written father to son, offering my insights based on the experiences I’ve had.  I’m not sure if it would be about writing exclusively or creativity generally, but it’s an idea I’m letting percolate for now.  This particular project probably wouldn’t be for the public, but rather something just for Collin and Finn.  I don’t want to write a commercial creative writing manual because for me personally that would feel rather pretentious, considering there are far more talented and successful writers out there.

I feel fortunate that I’ve gotten to spend my entire career surrounded by language.  Even though I grumble about students and grading papers, I recognize that at the very least I’ve gotten paid for something I love dearly.  Sure, I would like to have more success with my books, sell more copies, and maybe win an award or something, but even if that never happens, I’m content that I’ve had the opportunity to write my books and this silly blog and share my love of language with those around me.

General Posts

Friday Morning Ramblings

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Today, I’ll start numbering and signing the limited edition copies of The Fall of Dorkhun.  It’s a tedious process, but one that I enjoy.  I’ve never had a hardcover version of my books before, and holding them feels a little surreal.  It’s similar to watching my kids grow.  In the beginning, they were these small, fragile things, completely dependent on me for life, but as they’ve grown, they’ve become something more.  It’s hard to put into words.

Recently, I’ve offered to send a couple of the remaining versions of the first edition of TBOD to two friends who’ve been very supportive of me over the last year, so I got out the copies and looked at them.  It’s a wonder I sold a single one.  They were so shoddily put together by the printer, and the art was so simplistic.  I’m sure one day that original cover will make someone’s “Worst Book Covers of All-Time” wall of shame, but even so, holding those versions is still like holding one of my sons.  I had so few resources to work with but wanted so badly for the book to see the light of day that even though the binding is bad (literally, pages just fall out, not one or two either.  Dozens at a time.), the art looks like a doodle (As one person told me.), and the layout is obviously amateurish (I had no idea how to design a book cover.), I still love them.  And there are probably fewer than a hundred of those versions still in existence because they were so fragile.

I realize I’m waxing nostalgic and am being a sentimental fool, but I’m proud of the first printing of the first edition.  I had the balls to step into the arena and compete, the fortitude to weather the criticism and ridicule, and the persistence to keep fighting and keep writing.  Not many can say that.  I took a lot of criticism and heard a lot of teasing, and while it hurt, it also strengthened my resolve.  Today, each of my books has a gorgeous new cover designed by Bonnie Wasson (the first two should be revealed soon), and I have an excellent support system with SSP.  All of the jokes and nasty comments have been worth it because I achieved the goal of that original first printing: to garner enough attention to attract a reputable publisher.

But it all started with an “ugly” book with shoddy binding, and I hope to never forget those roots.

 http://seventhstarpress.com/documents/books.html