The Word Cloud

Just come across my first ever attempt at blogging. Not a pretty sight. Just goes to show you, you should never go public until you have edited!
WARNING! Contains potty mouthed obscenities, sorry.

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This is the start of something… big? Nah, blig? Ha! No. Something… necessary. Let me start at the very beginning. Well, not the very beginning, that would just be silly.

June 1st 2007;
Bye bye work. Not by choice, you understand. The bastards.
EzBird (the missus) convinced me to not resign the second I returned from Cape Verde (Dire in 2007, leave it a decade if I was you), so I didn't. No, they get in first.

Why is that not just the greatest "woohoo" of all time? Can't tell you. Maybe it's something to do with feeling… useless. If I had quit, I was in control, but being made redundant, well let's just say indignation is an understatement. So they pay me to leave;
"Get out!" They said. "Go on, get out. And take this… significant… amount of money with you."
"Ha! I will! You… lovely people, you… um… thank you."

So, one weeks garden leave, a nice little nest egg and the "summer" off. For those non-uk residents, and anyone arriving late to this drivel, the summer of 2007 was a bloody wash-out in the UK; The sun didn't start to shine until end of July, here in the midlands at any rate. So, what to do, what to do? Lie here in the… rain or… hold up, what else is there?

There you go; all the background you need. Personal details? What the hell for? Ok, ok, ok. For heaven's sake.

Er, EzBloke and EzBird (Sometimes called EzBabe) plus EzCat no EzKids. EzPop (EzMum passed away in '99), EzBro2 (EzBro1 passed away in '97), EzSis1, EzSis2 and EzSis3 (I would be EzBro3 in case you need to know). One EzUnc (EzAunt passed away '04 - is it me or is it not good to be EzRelated? What do you mean "yes"?) Countless EzNephews and EzNieces and EzInLaws all over the place.

'66 what a wonderful series of year's;
1066 - Battle of Hastings; all our corns cured.
1666 - The great fire of London; England invents the rat barbeque.
1966 - I was born; Oh, and something about a world cup too, but that's not important right now.

What else do you want to know? Oh yes, the point! Ha ha ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha. Ha. Ahhhh. Anyway…

So I have this dream, pretty damn vivid if you want to know; Dragons, heroes; princessessess, princessess', princessii, heroins ah, crap; heroines and shit. I began to regale EzBird with the wondrous nature of it and did not stop even when the light behind her eyes went out.

Upshot is; she tells me to write it.
"You live in a fantasy world" she says, "so go write."
"I bloody will," Says I.
And with that, she dutifully returned to her Soduku.

So, up comes the PC at the press of a digit and out pours the dream. Absolutely amazing. Two days I write. Two days. Two solid, do-not-disturb-an-artist-at-work, no-I-don't-want-any-tea, no-I-can't-come-out-for-a-beer… (?!) days. And I am now the proud owner of nine and a half thousand words of complete and utter garbage. And I mean garbage. Oh dear. I need help.

You just have to love t'interweb. One day of surfing, reading and swearing later and I have the following advice to work on;

Character Biog's;
Know your character like they are your best friend.

Really? I dunno. I kinda just made this shit up and these people don't actually exist. And isn't that, like, one step closer to stalking?

Ok, I'll give it a go. Well, no, actually, what I'll do is hit the pub for a pint. Or two. Or several. Yay.

...Soooo, let's see what this little bugger is like then shall we?

Ok. He's a farm boy. Gets a dream. Good, good, like it. An' the dream makes him intelligent. Yes! This is the mutts nuts! What else? Let's see; He's a magician… Euch. Magician? Magician? Paul Daniels (Google him, or not. I would say not) pops into my head. What a horrible word. Magic. Magicians. Magii. Mages. Eeew.

Let's see… Magic is an illusion, ok… Illusionists? Illusionisers? Illusionator? Great if my target audience is George Bush. One book, one sale. Whoop. Wait a minute though… if it was $1M a book… y'know this might just work
Ok. Maybe not.

So magic. What is magic? Mind over matter? Ok. Bit of a mouthful as they say. Do they say that? And who are they anyway?

I know! (Eureka! but not in the bath, eh? Computers and water do not mix. Don't try it at home folks) TLA's. Three Letter Acronyms! Yay! Let's face it, how long before they become words in their own right anyway?
"Hi, I'm Bill, I live in the Yu ess ay."
Works for me. So, Mind Over Matter = Emohem. Bugger me this novelezarating is easy! I reckon I deserve a pint for that.

So. Who's our hero? Who… who… who…? Who's Our Hero. Aha! Oh wait; Doubleyu-Oh-Aitch, blah. That just looks shite. Who is our hero? It's 'ar 'ero 'innit… ar'ero? Ooooooo… liking this already… S'ar'iro… Sariro. Yay! Sariro! Holy shit! He has a name! Do not mention surname ok, just shut up.

What are his dreams about? Ah, that's easy; they are premonitions. He's dreaming about premonitions? Bollocks. Nope, he is having premonitions; about a great battle he has to fight. Good, good, getting there!

Ok. What was his mothers name? What?! What the hell? How would I know? I never met his goddamn mother.

Alright! He's a bloody orphan ok? If he has a scar you could call him Harry fucking Potter, change your name to Jaykay Rowling and not have to worry about writing this sodding book. Ok. No scar. Not an orphan either. His mother's name is Beatrice, ok? There. Beatrice. Satisfied?

His father's name, before you bloody start, is Ezan. They die in the first chapter, leaving Sariro an orphan and where he gets his scar… Oh, hells tits. Can you stop thinking about Harry Potter for five minutes? Apparently no… Right, let's try again, shall we? What's next?

Back-story.
Back-story? I haven't got the bloody story yet and you want a back-story? Right! Back-story. Ok. Here we go… So the story is that Sariro has to save his village from an evil something or other…

Back-story then;
The evil something or other… let's just use Gnome as a place marker… is back. He wants to regain his domain (very poetic) because he lost it in a great battle. Awesome! He shoots! He scores! Hell, this could be a book in its own right!

You want back-story? I'll give you damn back-story!
The back-story to the back-story… ok, that word is starting to lose meaning, now… is that this Gnome, called… um… Irsi… Gnome Irsi! Geddit? Huh, huh? Geddit? Aw, c'mon! That's good stuff! No Mercy? No? Suit yourself, gits.

So, the back-story back-story is… that Irsi's domains were originally… Heaven! Oh, yes! Heaven. The fall of Heaven! Aw, shit, been done. Bugger. Ok, not heaven then, what's another word for heaven? (Wiki is wi-i-i-i-kid man!) Paradise. Or the Elysian Fields. Or Valhalla - the eternal resting place of dun dun daaaaaaaa heroes. Cooool. So Paradise falls to Irsi. (Backback-story) Irsi's domain… what's the antithesis of Paradise? Hell. Hell? Euch. Too Heaven and Hell-ish. We'll call it [Hell] for now. As a placeholder. Then [Hell] falls, to…um, dunno, it just falls… (Back-story) Excellent!
Phew! This is hard bloody work.

Ok, now at this point, maybe a day or two passes as I can't get Paradise Falls out of my head and bugger me if it isn't just brilliant… you can't say no, you haven't heard the rest of it yet.

Ok let's pick up the pace a little;
I'm compressing somewhere between four to six weeks into a short space here, just so's you can catch up.

I'm writing. What I am writing is backback-story.
Sixteen Chapters; 75,000 words in maybe six weeks; with the occasional day off for the pub, shopping with EzBird etc. Ok - we have the bulk of a story. Notice I keep calling it a story, later on I find out that my time-linear non-consequential story has, um, let's see… no… that's "no" plot… ouch.

So, how do I describe where I got to; ok here we go; let's pad the synopsis… heh, heh, now we're an author baby. Oh, Yeah!

So, Book 1 (This is now a trilogy… or a thrillogy as I like to call it. Ok. I won't call it that);
Sariro, a dumb farm boy is having educational dreams. No, not those kind of dreams. Please, keep your mind out of the gutter will you? He dreams about the invasion of Paradise, an old myth of his people. That’s how it starts; he tells (or gets told) the myth of "The End Of Times" (Big music, da da da daaaaaaa). Then he has to work out how he fits in. Coool.

Right; the myth involves the Gnome Irsi and his entry into Paradise. Someone should stop him. A quintessential hero, a veritable Arnie. Who is going to be my Conan? Halfir ('coz he's only got half an ear) Goldenhair (Because he has… blonde hair…) Oh, and to show Irsi is a real bad nasty, not one but two heroes. The other one is, um… Grinii (Green Eye, on account of his, oh you get the picture) Lionheart (yada yada yada). Sweet.

So, Sariro must help Halfir stop Irsi, but he's only having dreams, so how can he do it? He needs help. Aha! A muse! With a sense of humour, even. So amuseing… no? Ok, I'll give you that one.

Now then, following the Native American naming convention that everyone is so familiar with, I'll call our muse, Kentse (Kent See. As in "Kent see any dangly bits; awwww damn, another girl"). Spot on. Ok, I'll work on the biogs for these five for now.

At this point, serendipity gives me a nudge on a trip to the 'net for EzBird about the US series House. Wiki oh dear, beloved, Wiki how I love you so. Ahem, anyhoo…

So House, Dr Gregory no less, has a biog on Wiki. A biog for fucks sake! And, god bless Bill Gates too as cut 'n' paste now gives me a biog framework! Oh, and a sample for me to get my head into the concept. Yeehaaaaa! So, now (remember four or six weeks of head down writing?) Sariro, Kentse, Irsi, Halfir and Grinii have 4,000 words each. Yep, 4,000! Holy shit! That’s… lots!

Ask me anything. Go on. Ask me. Halfir's Mother? His relationship with his father? Why he is a hero? How about; Why is Halfir in Paradise? Well, I'll tell you. He's in Paradise 'coz Irsi killed him. Yep. What a bastard. Killed him dead he did. And, right, not only that but Irsi was so pissed at Halfir that he was not content to kill him the once, oh no. Nope. Irsi wangs over to Paradise to have another pop at our eponymous hero. Why? Good question. And I can tell you that too; 'Coz he nicked Irsi's sword, so he did. Not just any old sword either. Nope. A magic sword. Sooo, how about them onions eh?

Ok, that's the why; Now, the what…
Next post.
It's late, and EzBird is talking and I should really be listening I suppose…

 
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Don’t you ever wish you were smart the first time…?

Sigh.

Ez