Unresolved, expectedly hard to resolve...

A month ago, I was determined that I'd be done in a week with this book. I was on a roll. I was going to finish writing a book for the first time in my life! But I sort of painted myself into a massive corner.

The entire book was a response to a romance novel that made me think, "Man, even I could do better than this!" So it was going to be a romance. I wanted something with drama! Something with suspense! Something with... shapeshifters?

I couldn't help myself. I love elements of fiction. So it became a sort of romance novel, tucked inside a science-fiction world. That was actually not too bad. But then it came to my style of writing. Here's an excerpt:

Langdon opened the door to his apartment, and was greeted by a wall. He found a closet with a short shower stall and toilet in it, which was amusingly called a bathroom, despite the absence of a bath and, more so, its complete refusal to fit a standing adult anywhere inside of it, thus making it not much of a room, either. There was space for a two-seated couch or a small bed. If one were to try for both, the kitchen, the “bathroom”, and the entryway could only be accessed by scaling over both.

The style of writing allows for the narrator to make observations, and, naturally, make observational humor. The narration has no problem calling characters' actions stupid, and will describe pertinent thoughts of everyone.

Being able to describe everyone's thoughts leaves little room for tension, but I forged ahead! I threw together some characters, stirred up some drama, and then I hit my wall.

I had no idea what kind of book I was writing.

Initially, it was a romance book for men. Men are romantic creatures, but books and society at large tend to underplay the impact of our feelings. This was, to be sure, a little delusion of grandeur. While I still believe that the male perspective of romance needs to be present, the book itself is a bit too silly to critically present anything. And I like silly.

I told Jessi about the entire thing last night, about how a fraction of the population can turn slightly animalistic at night, and how the romance and drama I'd written resulted in our hero, Langdon, having no actual friends, having distanced himself from everyone.

"The only parts you've ever told me about," Jessi said, "were just shenanigans."

AND THAT. CHANGED. EVERYTHING.

So! My book, still codenamed "Unresolved", is back on the drawing board (or more accurately, the operating table). It's a book about a guy and his shenanigans. There's romance. There's action. There's drama. There's humor laced throughout the entire thing. And while I have the daunting task of redoing a lot of it, I'm back to being excited.

Anyways, I've got to get back to it! I'm going through it and rewriting a good amount, but it's still progress!

Here are my kiiiiiiiiiiids! They're cute!

Dadmaster: The pre-planning thoughts.

I know, I know, calling a post by the same name as the blog? Poor taste. But it gets down to one of my goals in life: I'd love to have a pencil and paper role-playing game with my kids. The boys like fun, and if there's a game even inferred at, I know they'll jump on board.

Here's the thing, though. They are working on a level so much higher than I am. Their imagination takes me back to the days when I drew spaceships, and a triangle meant an engine, a square meant a  missile launcher, and every day I invented some illogical and absurd method of doing something that, in itself, was illogical and absurd.

For example, I remember a plan I made for a ship that traveled underwater, surrounded by a barrier of lasers that evaporated the water in such a way that the steam reflected the laser around the entirety of the ship. So, underneath a laser barrier, everyone stayed perfectly dry.

My theory on childhood and adulthood is this: When you grow up, you learn how to measure things.

On one side, this means you can learn how to build something, or cook something, or devise a plan that solves multiple problems. You learn how to compromise with others and you learn how to moderate yourself.

On the other side, it means you learn how to moderate your own feelings. Your imagination is still as powerful as before, but you give it bounds to give it meaning. You withhold your heart. In my mind, this is why God asks us to be like a child. To love without compromise. To be open to the expanse of infinity that He holds. Because if we try to know God in measured terms, we can't do it.

Whew! Well, that got a bit deeper than I meant it to. What I'm trying to say is, I refuse to restrict their imagination. If they decide that their group of travelling knights is going to hop on a rocket ship and save Mars from some sort of Evil Batman... that's what we'll do!