Who Are You?

            As I sit here writing my 200^th blog, I can’t help but wonder – who are you? (It helps if you picture me pressing my nose up against my computer monitor, peering into it.) Yes, you, on the other side of this screen, reading these words that I’ve typed.

            Since starting this blog in 2013, it has had almost 10,000 hits. That’s around 50 visits per weekly post – not much, in the grand scheme of things, but pretty awesome considering how little effort I put into finding new readers.

            Now, I know who some of you are. Some are family and I know of a handful of friends who regularly come to read the latest thing that has spilled out of my head. That accounts for five to eight of those visits. There are a handful of others who visit when the link I share on Facebook catches their eye – I’m quite surprised by some of the people who have liked the links; people who I never would have thought would drop by my blog.

            That still accounts for less than half the visits. So, who are you, out there in the ether(net cables)? What is it that draws you to this place where I ramble about who-knows-what?

            Who are you?

            Well, whoever you are, thank you for dropping by. If you didn’t keep coming to read, I wouldn’t keep rambling – then I never would have reached 200 posts. Wouldn’t that be a shame?

Also, happy Halloween!

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

Also, make sure you check out my wife's blog and her life coaching website.


If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

Aren't Allergies Fun?

            Allergy season has come again. Funny, isn't it, how there are multiple allergy seasons? It’s a little unfair, too, to those of us who suffer from them.

            I've had a myriad of minor allergies since I was very young. I remember lying awake some nights, hardly able to breathe because my nose was congested and my throat was closing on me. When I was tested for allergies, the tests showed I had a sensitivity to... well, just about everything. No serious allergies, for which I'm grateful, but a minor sensitivity to just about everything in the natural world – grass, trees, pollen, dust, cats, perfumes, milk, wheat... I don’t even know everything that was on the list, it was so long.

            Luckily for me, spending several years on a rotation diet and growing older have lessened the severity of my allergies, but every now and then they hit me – and hard. In the past week I've been sneasing regularly, with litters of 3-15 sneezes at a time. I've single-handedly gone through three boxes kleenexes in a week.

            I've always felt that the timing of allergy seasons was notoriously unfair as well. I mean, the first one of the year is springtime, and it usually isn't too bad, but it meant that my nose was running and making me feel miserable for the first good weather of the year.

            The second season hits in late June. The end of the school year. Have you ever tried to write exams with your nose dripping onto the paper? Naturally, the third season arrives around now – just about the right time to go back to school. It was many years that I sat through the first couple weeks of classes, trying to discreetly wipe my nose (blowing my nose was out of the question, as I've always made it a point to be as silent as possible when around other people).

            Throw into the mix any colds that could be caught during the winter... well, I needn't say more.

            So, as I sit here blowing my nose and trying not to rub my eyes that are so itchy I want to gouge them out, I can’t help thinking about all the other people out there suffering as I am (or worse). To them, all I can do is tell them the same thing that the doctor told my father-in-law when my sister-in-law swallowed a dime when she was a baby (there was no good way to say that): This, too, shall pass. (Don't look at me; it wasn't my joke.)

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

Curse That Cursor

            Blink. Blink. Blink. That’s all that nasty cursor does. It just sits there and blinks. It’s no help at all. I sit here for ages, just watching it blink away when it’s supposed to have a beautiful stream of words flowing out from behind it.

            ...

            Okay, I’ll admit that it’s more of a jumpy, fragmented, frequently doubled back upon for corrections stream of words, but my point still stands. There are supposed to be words there and there are none. Couldn't the cursor be a little more helpful than this? Couldn't it do more than just sitting there, blinking?

            I know! It could be an inspiration coach. The word processor could sense when it is inactive and the cursor could morph into a dragon and fly around the screen, or start spewing writing advice, or, at the very least, fall over out of boredom. At the best, it could start writing all on its own.

           Hey, look! Words! I did it. I wrote a blog. Well done me.

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

Where Wild Brains Roam

            Have you ever looked down at your feet and realised just how far away they are? No, really. I mean, if your head were to fall off for some inexplicable reason, when it landed, it would hurt. Really hurt. Although, with your head falling off, I really have no idea why you’d be worried about a little pain. Seriously, get your priorities straight.

            Where was I? Oh, yes, feet! Way down there (perhaps closer for some of you than others *cough*mydad*cough*). How did they get there? Don’t you remember a time when they were much closer? No, not quite that close – yes, I know all infants go through that stage where they chew on their toes and some people never grow out of the phase of constantly putting their foot in their mouth, but I'm talking about when you’re standing straight as a board. As in a two-by-four (properly treated so it doesn't twist – if you have to twist to see your feet, I'm afraid I must tell you that you've gone and got your feet on backwards. You might want to have someone look into that) rather than a board of directors because those are rarely straight.

            So, yes. Closer feet. Back then, the drop wasn't nearly so far. We could fall flat on our faces and hardly notice it. Of course, we also had the energy to go whizzing around , so we were far more likely to fall flat on our faces. Or run straight into walls. Or trees. I did that once, I should tell you some time. My dad tells it better though. My version has me, my brother, a Batmobile Nerf gun and a tree. My dad’s version has pirates marauding on highway 403. Way better.

            Anyway, your feet were once much closer, then, suddenly, one day, you look down and discover just how far away they are. Has that ever happened to you? It happened to me today. I guess that just goes to show what kind of funny thoughts can spring into your mind sometimes.

            Now, pick your head up off the floor and put it back on your shoulders where it belongs. This isn't the Labyrinth, you know.

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

Waterproof Ringcrafts

            Today’s blog will likely be short, as I've just gotten home from my second day at the Oxford Renaissance Festival in Woodstock, Ontario, where Colleen and I were selling our chainmaille. We had a fantastic time, but being on my feet for twelve hours straight while wearing chainmaille two days in a row has really worn me out. My legs are threatening to quit, which would make writing on my laptop a bit more difficult.

            This was our first outdoor show, so it was a wonderful and terrifying new experience. It’s very hard to leave core parts of your livelihood outdoors, even when you know security will be on site. For us, our biggest concern was our tent – we bought it for this event and Colleen made a medievalish cover for it.

I’d like to take a moment to elaborate on that; she sewed an entire tent. Out of canvas. Now, think about how big a project that is while I tell you she did it in just three days. The results? We absolutely love it!

            As great as the tent looks, we had no way of knowing how functional it was in regards to, say, rain. The first day of the festival went fantastically with great weather and no problems, but even as we were packing up at night we knew that rain was expected. All we could do was make sure everything we needed to leave in the tent overnight was under the tarp we’d brought and hope that the predicted wind wouldn't tear it free (or blow away out tent, for that matter). Then we closed up our tent and drove away, not knowing what we’d find the next day...

            As a bit of side information, the tent has full walls on all sides that we can put up when we choose, however they are each made of three panels that tie together – this means that each wall has two gaps. These walls, like the roof cover, are made of canvas – not treated to be waterproof. The only waterproof part was the tent’s original cover (hidden under our cover) which we were worried wouldn't function with once our cover was on top.

You can imagine our surprise when we arrived on a rainy morning, after a rainy night, and found the inside of our tent completely dry! Not a blade of grass was wet. The canvas was soaked through, but Colleen’s home made tent had succeeded in keeping out the elements. We were thrilled, even more so when the sun came out in the afternoon and completely dried our tent for us.

            The rest of the event went well, although we had more wind than on the first day and, as a result, we learned important lessons about which of our displays need to be more secure for future outdoor events. All in all this was a wonderful fair (I could watch the live jousting from the back of our tent!) and we had a great time while learning lots and meeting loads of wonderful people (including many friends who dropped by, even some not expecting to see us).

We even managed to pack up and leave right before the thunderstorm hit. Now, that’s what I call a good weekend.

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

References and Originality

            One thing you should always remember about authors is that we are playful people and words are our favourite toys. We love to be sneaky and hide little secrets and references in our books, not to mention leaving a few puns lying around. My favourite  though, are the references. Most of these you won’t even notice unless you’re familiar with what they are about, but when you see them, they give you a good chuckle.

            The master of these references, of course, is Terry Pratchett. I firmly believe that no one can measure up to his satirical fantasy. I don’t think you can read a page without stumbling across some sort of obscure reference – the more I read, the more of them I catch and the more I marvel at his brilliance.

            In the three and a half books I've written, I've snuck in everything from Monty Python and Princess Bride quotes to references from Tolkien, Pratchett, Shakespeare and Dr Who (which I've only been watching for about a week) to internet memes. The more I write, the more ways I discover to sneakily hide references.

            I started thinking about these references (obviously, or else I wouldn't be talking about them) after coming across a reference to the lyrics of a Bon Jovi song in the book I'm currently reading (Vortex). I started to wonder why we hide these little tidbits in our books. I mean, obviously it’s fun, and it makes us feel special when someone likes our books enough to go digging through in search of everything we hid inside, but those couldn't be the only reasons.

            Then I realised that it’s our way of giving credit. In this day and age, there is virtually no originality. Not because we artists aren't as imaginative as we used to be, but simply because there is so much that has come before us. When I first read Eragon (a book written by someone close to my own age) I knew right away, without a doubt, that Christpher Paolini was a fan of Anne McCaffrey and Ursula K Le Guin. Whether it is intentional or not, authors will always have traces of whatever inspired them in their work. So, by sneaking our little references in, we are tipping our hats to those who inspired us and making ourselves feel better about using the turn of phrase that, strictly speaking, we didn't come up with.

            Since I mentioned the lack of originality in the world, I think I should elaborate on what I mean by that, as well as making it clear that it’s not a bad thing. We humans love to measure things and, while many would argue that art can’t be measured, we have managed to analyse books and say with certainty that there are only somewhere between 1 and 36 plotlines that exist in the world (the number depends on the system you are using to define the plots). If you look at the thousands of books, movies, video games and anything else requiring a plot that’s out there (like life), it’s obvious that these get used over and over again. How do we not notice?

            Well, the reason we don’t notice is because we (well, most of us) aren't watching for it. The art of telling a story isn't in creating a plot that no one has considered before; it’s in telling the story in a way that entertains people. It’s nice if this is a new way, and even better if you can keep people guessing, but the true purpose is to entertain. So, it doesn't matter that every story has already been told, because it can always be told in a different way!

            What about those people who analyse everything and complain about the lack of originality? That’s their own problem. If they want to decide that every story where the villain is the protagonist’s father is a Star Wars rip off, anything with a portal to another world is Narnia and anything with any type of institution that teaches magic is Harry Potter, then they are welcome to be disappointed about the lack of originality. They should, however, take a moment to read the history books to see how often events of reality repeat. They should also look to see if anyone else has commented on the lack of originality, lest their complaint is not their original thought.

            To finish off, I shall impersonate the Doctor and say, live long and prosper with the force. Alas, poor Yorik, he got caught playing riddles in the dark and was slain by Sephiroth before he could collect all the Deathly Hallows! Now, where did I leave my holy hand grenade...? Like a boss!

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

Pho Freedom!

            My wife and I are currently self-employed, which gives us a lot of opportunities that not many people have. For one thing, we have almost complete control over our work schedules – although, in reality this means we work seven days a week. So, when my maternal grandfather gave up his licence and he and my grandmother still needed transportation to appointments, they gave me their car on the condition that I chauffeur them when needed. This was an excellent deal for me, because I actually had the free time for this. I was already giving my brother rides to work for the winter (so he wouldn't have to ride his motorcycle or get a car) and taking my paternal grandfather to the occasional appointment. Which is where this week’s story starts.

            I received a call from my paternal grandfather telling me that one of my cousins was much further south than he usually was, so would it be possible for me to drive him out to meet him and have lunch? Well, who am I to say no to a free lunch? Especially once it was suggested that we go to Colleen’s favourite restraunt. So it was that we went out to have pho.

            As this cousin lives considerably further north than me, I haven’t spent much time with him. I was astonished to find how much we had in common on our views of the world! I've always considered myself a bit of a philosopher, but my cousin had studied philosophy and my grandfather had studied some philosophy when he was becoming a minister. The resulting conversation at our table very likely melted the brains of any eavesdroppers.

            One of the most interesting things that came up was freedom. Now, freedom is a word we hear and use a lot, but it isn’t something we think about the meaning of. We just know we want it. The problem is that with freedom comes responsibility, which in its own is almost the same as not having freedom.

            For a person to be truly free, they need to be able to say and do whatever they want. The problem is that they are then able to harm others because to disallow them from harming others would be to eliminate their freedom. We see this problem across the internet all the time – people insulting others and telling people that try to stop them that they are free people, free to do what they want. This is true freedom, but it is only possible for one person to have, because for them to remain free, they must violate the freedoms of other – the freedom to be safe from the harms of others.

            The freedom that actually exists in this world has strings attached, because we (at least, most of us) believe that everyone should be free. So, as a free person, I now have the responsibility to temper my responses to other people, to restrain myself from saying things that would harm others. Why? Because to maintain my freedom, I must support the freedom of others.

            A perfect example is what I mentioned earlier about being self-employed. I'm free to make my own schedule and, as a result, I end up working seven days a week. If I didn't  I wouldn't be able to make enough money to remain self-employed to keep that freedom.

            Thus, freedom is something of a paradox. If you have it, it is something that you can’t abuse or you’ll lose it. I’d almost go as far as saying that freedom isn't actually something we want; it’s only something we think we want. My question then becomes: what do we want?

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

The Curse of the Writer

            The curse of the writer is that you just have to keep writing. You just can’t stop. No, really, I mean it! The more you write, the more you have to write.

            I've heard accusations hurtled at J.K. Rowling saying that she’s just written her newest book because she wants more money, which is ridiculous. She wrote it because she’s a writer, so she writes on even when she no longer needs to.

            You see, the way it works is that you start off with an idea for a book. As you write that book, you come up with a great idea, character, or scenario that just won’t quite work for what you’re writing, so you put it aside. As you write, that idea grows and expands in the back of your mind until you have a whole new book waiting to be written! The worst part is that the number of books you plan to write grows exponentially.

            I actually started with a trilogy planned, although it’s not the trilogy I've written. This trilogy is waiting until I feel I'm experienced enough to write it and make it all that I hope it will be. Anyway, so that’s three books I started with living in my head. The first book I completed, To Slay a Dragon (working title), started as a school project that grew. By the time I was done writing it, I knew it was going to be a trilogy. So, I now had one book written and five more planned, bringing the total number of books in my head to six.

            While writing my second book, I brought back a character who’d had a cameo in my first book. I loved working with this character so much that I started sketching out the story of his life and wondering what kind of book it would make. As well as that, by the time I’d finished the second book, I’d also come up with a really cool idea for a stand-alone in my series (this is the one I'm currently working on). So, that’s two books written and six planned, totalling eight in my head.

            Moving on to the third book I was thinking that these ideas must surely die out soon, right? How wrong I was. First, my wife and I started a roleplay where we took turns writing our characters and the events going on around them. It was meant for fun, as well as an excellent writing exercise, but the more we wrote the more we realized that we were starting another book. Then, while I was throwing some minor characters into my third book, I was writing up the character backgrounds and discovered that one of them had a whole book there! Finally, just as I was finishing my third book, my brain started playing with some puns and spat out another book at me. That’s three books written and eight more planned for a grand total of eleven books.

            Better make that twelve because, less than a month into writing my fourth book, I started thinking it will need a sequel. I hate to think how many books I’ll have planned by the time I'm finished writing it!

            So, if you’re thinking of becoming a writer, think long and hard about it, because you’re getting yourself into a job that will never end. That’s probably the only regret I have. I view everything that has happened to me in my life as part of what led me to where I am today, but I think it’s fair to regret that I won’t live long enough to empty my imagination.

            To that end I must ask, has J.K. Rowling ever let on to exactly how Dumbledore and Flamel made the philosopher’s stone? I wouldn't mind some elixir of life.

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

Why Writing and Chainmaille Mesh

            I've been doing this blog thing for a whole month now and I realized that I haven’t included anything relating to my chainmaille work yet. I was considering writing about the construction of chainmaille, but I realised that, on its own, that might turn out rather dull – after all, you can only say so much about linking rings together. That got me thinking about my odd combination of occupations, which led me to start thinking about why I enjoy them both so much and what links the two together.

            The best place to start is with a brief description on how chainmaille is assembled. I am, of course, functioning on the assumption that anyone reading this understands the writing process, i.e. I make things up and write them down, hopefully in a way that will entertain people – preferably with a lack of pointing and laughing.

            Chainmaille was originally developed as a type of armor, back in the ancient days, and has since been adapted to make jewelry, clothing and just about anything else people can dream up. It is made by linking metal rings together in various patterns, or weaves, but I'm getting a bit ahead of myself here. It all starts with a single ring.

            No, this is not the One Ring to Rule Them All, though I have often thought of making a shirt out of those. Unfortunately, I don’t have that kind of money, but if anyone out there does, I would be delighted to make it for you!

            I digress. So, this one ring must first be bent closed, ideally with a pair of pliers, so that the ring appears to be one solid ring. This can take quite a lot of practice to achieve as many metals tend to have a bit of spring in them and the edges need to be flush to avoid scratching. Once that is done, you move on to the next ring, then the next one and the next, until the project is done. The following is the progression of a small piece of European 4 in 1, one of the easiest and most common weaves, as it is constructed one ring at a time.

            Hopefully, that will give you a good idea of what it is like to make chainmaille. Now to start comparing it to writing!

            The first thought that came to me was that, when writing, a book often goes together like a piece of chainmaille. You keep adding little bits on until the whole is complete. Both when you’re working on a book and working on a piece of chainmaille, you often have a general idea of how it will turn out, but you can only clearly see small parts and you hope the rest will work itself out. The more you make, the clearer the overall project becomes, just like with chainmaille. A lot of time and patience go into both projects.

            So writing a book is a lot like making chainmaille and they both provide me with a similar sort of enjoyment, but is that the only reason why I was drawn to both of these? Perhaps at first, but I've now come to realise how well the two complement each other. You see, chainmaille takes a long time to make, while a book requires a whole lot of background thinking. You can’t work an eight hour day constantly writing; your brain can’t keep up with that! Besides, the best results come from an idea that has been stewing for a while.

            Likewise, chainmaille all day isn't the greatest idea ever. You end up with hands that are callused, blistered and have distinct pliers indents in them. Sometimes that’s after only a couple of hours! So, not only is the brain allowed to quietly work in the background while the chainmaille is being made, but the chainmaille requires breaks. A perfect opportunity for writing! At the end of the day (or year, as the case may be), the two jobs get completed together because each of them can be worked on while a break is being taken from the other. What other jobs link together and mesh so well?

Over the last couple weeks, I've been nominated for a number of blog awards. At this point I'm not ready to participate in these, but I’d like to thank Tricia, Kay and Lindsey for their nominations, they mean a lot to me!

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.