It's been a very long time since I last
blogged. The spiders that I've had to clean out of my Google account in order
to create this new site had grown fat, had children, and died. Even their hordes of metaphorical children
have also died in the period of
time it's been since I last used it, littering my out-of-date Google account with their tiny,
imaginary arachnid husks. During English Language lessons at sixth form, we -
that is myself and my unfortunate comrades-in-arms who suffered through five
hours of anti-male hate-speech spouted at us by our miserable teacher each week
- were encouraged to start writing our and releasing small snippets of our own
work online. As a result, for a few months I wrote my own blog on which I wrote
about my love of heavy metal music. I reviewed albums, music videos, and the
like. This eventually fizzled out, as a simple lack of interest - both on my
part and that of my tiny following of fans.
Now, older (and wiser?), I find myself returning
to Internet-writing again, this time in a very different capacity. For a couple
of years now, many people have been pestering me to share my creative written
work with the world, something I have never done before. The sob-story that
I've spun as the reason for this revolves around blows to my confidence, a lack
of self-esteem, and a conviction that no-one really cares that much in the
first place. However, following some glowing feedback on some of my work, I
thought I'd try sharing some of my work anyway.
As it stands, I have one manuscript
near-completed and a second almost half-written. The first, I've been working
on for around a year now. It is set upon the fantastical continent of Esdaria,
and focuses on the stories of two mercenaries. Short on money, these two men
agree to escort a blacksmith with a delivery of imperial weapons to where they
are needed on the eastern border, where the Vidorian Empire are locked in a
bloody stalemate with the Elves of Feldurn Forest. Things are not as they seem,
however, and as the two mercenaries deliver their charge and his shipment of
weapons to the entrenched imperial soldiers, they come face-to-face with a menace
neither of them had ever imagined, that threatens everything the two men have
ever known.
But that is not the purpose of this blog.
Esdaria, the continent on which these two heroes walk, is massive. Not in
geography, mind, but in scope. As I wrote my first manuscript, I found myself
establishing characters who had stories just as complex and intricate as those
which whirled about the protagonists whom the text followed. But, unlike those
main characters, these often faded away as the narrative moved on. I found
myself hating the fact that these minor characters, with names and their own
intricacies, ended up, to a degree, lost to the narrative. Over the next couple
of weeks or months, I cannot say for certain which, I plan to write a number of
shorter stories for public release here, that explore some of these more minor
characters.
But these will not just be stories that establish
the past of characters who come and go like dust on the narrative wind. What of
the parts of the protagonists’ lives which the narrative does not cover, yet
eludes to throughout the story? Take, for example, Brynt, the younger of the
two mercenaries: he heralds from a background steeped in blood and betrayal -
why not explore this, instead of confining this complicated and intricate part
of his character to mere reference in order to progress the main story? It
seems such a shame to leave so much unexplored. As I said, Esdaria is small yet
vast, and every person whom these stories touch upon has the potential to be as
complex as you or me.
I write because I love it. Since I was first able
to hold a pencil I have written stories. The first I ever wrote was about a
spotty black and white dog called Sam who went into his garden and did a shit
(it was also beautifully illustrated with a picture of a dog that looked more
like a pig with black buboes). Since then - I must've been perhaps two or three,
no more - I like to think I've at least come some way in my ability to put
words upon a page and jiggle them around until they make some sort of story.
There is, at the very least, less shitting in my more recent work - take that
for what you will.
I'll follow this up at some point with a brief
overview of the world in which these stories will be based. I'll tell a little
of its history and the lore that surrounds it. I cannot, however, guarantee
when this will be. I've chosen a rather awful time to decide to do this, the
weekend before I have the last three essays of my undergraduate degree due in:
four-thousand words on Anglo-Saxon burials, six-thousand on Frankish ambition
in the North Sea world at the end of the eighth and beginning of the ninth century,
and a ten-thousand word dissertation on the integrational period of the Danes
in England before the St Brice's Day massacre of 1002.
But that's all for now. I hope you'll stay with
me on my little foray into this world I've built.
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