Jeremy Mathiesen's Blog

Greetings from the treacherous frozen north.

A friend of mine recently challenged me on my most recent Kellen HalfCaste book. They asked if I had larger plans for Misha, the female love interest in the story, in future books. They said that right now her character could be seen as playing a too stereotypically, traditional, female role. They actually called her arm candy, ouch.

I immediately felt my guard go up. I’m used to this feeling and know to ignore it. I’ve worked in a creative field for a long time and have had my efforts critiqued regularly. I know that when I defend or make excuses for my work, I come across as insecure and stubborn, so I shut my mouth and listened to the constructive criticism.

My friend pointed out a scene that they thought was potentially problematic. They told me that when writing females in my books, think about my daughter and the effects that my unconscious bias might play on her developing mind.

I became immediately overwhelmed. Again, a feeling I’m familiar with, especially as an author. I’ve plotted out my Kellen HalfCaste series over seven books. I asked myself, did Misha have a strong enough role in the following books? If not, how much would changing her role affect the arc of the rest of the stories? Would I have to replot the whole series? Would I have to rewrite the first book? Do readers think I’m chauvinistic? Have I been lazy in my writing?

Not for the first time, I considered quitting writing altogether. Maybe it’s just too much effort for me. Then I remembered something from a book I recently read. It’s an idea that has consistently carried me through many difficult times as of late. The idea is, there is your ego, and then there is the amazing machine that is your mind and body. The idea is that the ego is flawed, or at least that’s how I understood it, but the machine is a marvel of creation that is capable of almost anything.

I thought about who or what was being overwhelmed. I was afraid of what I had to do, or maybe of what I couldn’t do, and I was afraid of what people do or would think of me. I was afraid it would take too long or be too much work to strengthen Misha’s role in my series or that I would fail in that attempt.

When I thought about the ego vs the machine idea, It sounded to me like I was thinking with my ego. Then I thought, what if I didn’t worry about failure or what people thought of me? What if I removed my ego and trusted the machine. What if I let the machine look at the story arcs and Misha’s role in them, not worrying about success or failure. I immediately became calm and energized by the new perspective.

There’s something about abandoning the ego and letting the machine tackle whatever you endeavor to do. It feels right, pure, and without baggage. If you succeed, you know it was the machine that prevailed. Your success was not getting in its way. If you fail, you know that you did your best and did not let your ego scare you away from that attempt. They say people regret most what they didn’t try, not what they did.

I still don’t have the answer to my Misha arc question. Maybe there’s nothing wrong with her arc. Maybe I just have to be delicate with how it is portrayed. Maybe not. Whatever the machine comes up with, I’m confident it will be better than what I currently have.

If you have any thoughts on the topic, I’m all ears and promise not to be defensive 🙂

Now I’m going to start surgery on my Kellen HalfCaste series arcs. You continue to read 🙂

Keep your wits about you and good luck.

Greetings from the treacherous frozen north.

I received some great feedback from my most recent post, so I think I’ll continue along the same vein with this newsletter.

Like writing, grappling is a very humbling endeavor, and once again, I recently found myself very humbled. The Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu black belt is one of the most difficult black belts in combat sports to achieve. It’s maybe the most difficult. It takes an average of ten years of consistent training to receive. Three weeks ago I had the opportunity to earn mine.

I haven’t been all that focused on gaining belts in the past. I knew that if I just showed up on the mats and focused on my training, good things would happen. I find it’s like that with most things. You don’t worry about the outcome of a match, you prioritize proper technique. Good things happen. You don’t focus on earning money writing, you show up and write every morning. Good things happen.

I recently got wind that there would be belt promotions at my club. I’m a brown belt. I hold my own against the other brown belts, as well as the black belts. There’s only a handful of brown and black belts at the gym because most people don’t make it much past white belt, let alone blue.

When I realized that I might get my black belt, I suddenly wanted it so badly. I wanted it like a kid wants a new Christmas toy advertised on TV. I knew not to get my hopes up, but I couldn’t help it. I could sense that I wanted it for the wrong reasons, (ego, bragging rights,) but I didn’t care. I just wanted it.

The day came for promotions. The mats were packed with people waiting for new belts, or to receive stripes on their current ones. The plan was to spar for an hour or so. Then there would be a little promotion ceremony at the end of class.

I went against the toughest people I could find. I stalemated the brown belts, competed well, but lost to the black belts, and buzz-sawed through everyone else.

It was the last match of class. I felt good about my chances at a black belt. I went against a friend of mine. A big, strong white belt. I thought it would be a good cool-down match for me. We started rolling and he felt stronger than usual. I’m a brown belt. He shouldn’t have felt so strong. I became impatient. I wanted to impress my coaches. I forced a sweep and came up on top of him off balance. My friend used my aggression to attack an ankle lock. He was so strong. My usual defense wasn’t working. I fell to my seat and had to use a desperation roll to relieve the pressure on my foot. I couldn’t believe I was in panic mode against a white belt. He outweighed me by thirty pounds, but still, I had far more experience. He had me in checkmate. My foot was breaking. I didn’t want to tap to a white belt and look incompetent on promotion day. I continued to roll, wracking my brain for a technique or strategy to escape the submission and win the match. My friend applied even more pressure. I refused to submit, bargaining on the tendons and ligaments in my foot being strong enough to withstand my friend’s leverage. It was a plan beyond foolish. I heard three loud pops and felt stinging pain shoot throughout my ankle. I shouted, “TAP, TAP, TAP!” for all in the club to hear. Everyone, including my coaches, looked over and saw me being tapped out by a white belt. I knew at that moment, I could say goodbye to my promotion.

My friend felt terrible that he had injured my ankle. He hadn’t. I had. Everyone’s body is different. Some people’s joints are more flexible than others. How was he to know how bad a situation I was in? I made sure he understood that. I had plenty of time to tap. The saying is, “tap, nap, or snap.” I’ve done all of them. Snapping is by far the worst.

Promotions came. My friend earned his blue belt. All of the other brown belts were promoted to black. I received three stripes on my brown belt and a grade two tear in three ligaments in my left ankle.

I was beyond heartbroken. I felt like a teenager being dumped by a girl for the first time. I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. I was way too old to care that much about a martial arts belt.

When I received my stripes I pretended to be very happy and grateful, showing as much respect for my fellow students and coaches as I possibly could. When my fellow brown belts received their black belts, I congratulated them and was genuinely happy for them. They definitely deserved their promotions. When everyone celebrated afterward and posed for pictures, showing off their new belts, I smiled along and joined in, not wanting to ruin the mood and make things about myself. But the entire time, I was dying inside, dying. One of my new black belt friends even said to me, “I thought we were all going to get our black belts.” He meant it. He was trying to make me feel better. It didn’t.

When I jumped into my car, I was finally able to drop the act and let my real feelings show. I was so disappointed and frustrated with myself, but couldn’t figure out why. Other than not tapping, I hadn’t done anything wrong. It just wasn’t my time.

Because of my injury, I’ve missed three weeks of training, and I’m going to miss at least one more. Once again, my ego has held me back. Once again, I must learn a lesson I’ve been taught a thousand times before.

I don’t grapple for belts the same way that I don’t write for money. If I did, I would have quit both long ago. If you had told me, when I first started Jiu-Jitsu, that I would one day be a brown belt, I would have felt like a UFC champion. It’s the same way with writing. If you had told me fifteen years ago that I would one day write novels that people loved to read, I would have felt like J.R.R Tolkien.

I do my best to take care of my family, to work, to write, and to grapple. Good things keep on happening. They’re not always the exact things that I want to happen, but I can’t let that stop me. I can’t let my ego twist victories into defeat.

The real story here is, three weeks ago, I was promoted from a naked brown belt to a three-stripe brown belt. Four is the maximum that you can have before you are promoted to black. The rest of the story is about how my ego ruined all of that for me.

My newest Kellen HalfCaste story is about an orphan wrestler betrayed by those meant to protect him. Ego isn’t so much his enemy in this tale. Instead, he’s been cast as a born loser in a contest where the victors were decided long ago. Kellen must find balance in a world where the scales are tipped if he is going to defend himself from the corrupt and unjust. Is Kellen truly a mere pawn in this cruel game of Hammer and Snow?

Now I’m going to continue to nurse my sprained ankle and write. You continue to read 🙂

Keep your wits about you and good luck.

Greetings from the treacherous frozen north.

I received some great feedback from my most recent post, so I think I’ll continue along the same vein with this newsletter.

Like writing, grappling is a very humbling endeavor, and once again, I recently found myself very humbled. The Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu black belt is one of the most difficult black belts in combat sports to achieve. It’s maybe the most difficult. It takes an average of ten years of consistent training to receive. Three weeks ago I had the opportunity to earn mine.

I haven’t been all that focused on gaining belts in the past. I knew that if I just showed up on the mats and focused on my training, good things would happen. I find it’s like that with most things. You don’t worry about the outcome of a match, you prioritize proper technique. Good things happen. You don’t focus on earning money writing, you show up and write every morning. Good things happen.

I recently got wind that there would be belt promotions at my club. I’m a brown belt. I hold my own against the other brown belts, as well as the black belts. There’s only a handful of brown and black belts at the gym because most people don’t make it much past white belt, let alone blue.

When I realized that I might get my black belt, I suddenly wanted it so badly. I wanted it like a kid wants a new Christmas toy advertised on TV. I knew not to get my hopes up, but I couldn’t help it. I could sense that I wanted it for the wrong reasons, (ego, bragging rights,) but I didn’t care. I just wanted it.

The day came for promotions. The mats were packed with people waiting for new belts, or to receive stripes on their current ones. The plan was to spar for an hour or so. Then there would be a little promotion ceremony at the end of class.

I went against the toughest people I could find. I stalemated the brown belts, competed well, but lost to the black belts, and buzz-sawed through everyone else.

It was the last match of class. I felt good about my chances at a black belt. I went against a friend of mine. A big, strong white belt. I thought it would be a good cool-down match for me. We started rolling and he felt stronger than usual. I’m a brown belt. He shouldn’t have felt so strong. I became impatient. I wanted to impress my coaches. I forced a sweep and came up on top of him off balance. My friend used my aggression to attack an ankle lock. He was so strong. My usual defense wasn’t working. I fell to my seat and had to use a desperation roll to relieve the pressure on my foot. I couldn’t believe I was in panic mode against a white belt. He outweighed me by thirty pounds, but still, I had far more experience. He had me in checkmate. My foot was breaking. I didn’t want to tap to a white belt and look incompetent on promotion day. I continued to roll, wracking my brain for a technique or strategy to escape the submission and win the match. My friend applied even more pressure. I refused to submit, bargaining on the tendons and ligaments in my foot being strong enough to withstand my friend’s leverage. It was a plan beyond foolish. I heard three loud pops and felt stinging pain shoot throughout my ankle. I shouted, “TAP, TAP, TAP!” for all in the club to hear. Everyone, including my coaches, looked over and saw me being tapped out by a white belt. I knew at that moment, I could say goodbye to my promotion.

My friend felt terrible that he had injured my ankle. He hadn’t. I had. Everyone’s body is different. Some people’s joints are more flexible than others. How was he to know how bad a situation I was in? I made sure he understood that. I had plenty of time to tap. The saying is, “tap, nap, or snap.” I’ve done all of them. Snapping is by far the worst.

Promotions came. My friend earned his blue belt. All of the other brown belts were promoted to black. I received three stripes on my brown belt and a grade two tear in three ligaments in my left ankle.

I was beyond heartbroken. I felt like a teenager being dumped by a girl for the first time. I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. I was way too old to care that much about a martial arts belt.

When I received my stripes I pretended to be very happy and grateful, showing as much respect for my fellow students and coaches as I possibly could. When my fellow brown belts received their black belts, I congratulated them and was genuinely happy for them. They definitely deserved their promotions. When everyone celebrated afterward and posed for pictures, showing off their new belts, I smiled along and joined in, not wanting to ruin the mood and make things about myself. But the entire time, I was dying inside, dying. One of my new black belt friends even said to me, “I thought we were all going to get our black belts.” He meant it. He was trying to make me feel better. It didn’t.

When I jumped into my car, I was finally able to drop the act and let my real feelings show. I was so disappointed and frustrated with myself, but couldn’t figure out why. Other than not tapping, I hadn’t done anything wrong. It just wasn’t my time.

Because of my injury, I’ve missed three weeks of training, and I’m going to miss at least one more. Once again, my ego has held me back. Once again, I must learn a lesson I’ve been taught a thousand times before.

I don’t grapple for belts the same way that I don’t write for money. If I did, I would have quit both long ago. If you had told me, when I first started Jiu-Jitsu, that I would one day be a brown belt, I would have felt like a UFC champion. It’s the same way with writing. If you had told me fifteen years ago that I would one day write novels that people loved to read, I would have felt like J.R.R Tolkien.

I do my best to take care of my family, to work, to write, and to grapple. Good things keep on happening. They’re not always the exact things that I want to happen, but I can’t let that stop me. I can’t let my ego twist victories into defeat.

The real story here is, three weeks ago, I was promoted from a naked brown belt to a three-stripe brown belt. Four is the maximum that you can have before you are promoted to black. The rest of the story is about how my ego ruined all of that for me.

My newest Kellen HalfCaste story is about an orphan wrestler betrayed by those meant to protect him. Ego isn’t so much his enemy in this tale. Instead, he’s been cast as a born loser in a contest where the victors were decided long ago. Kellen must find balance in a world where the scales are tipped if he is going to defend himself from the corrupt and unjust. Is Kellen truly a mere pawn in this cruel game of Hammer and Snow?

Now I’m going to continue to nurse my sprained ankle and write. You continue to read 🙂

Keep your wits about you and good luck.

Greetings from the treacherous frozen north.

In the past, I’ve struggled with what to write about in these newsletters. I find that the books I read aren’t always fiction and don’t necessarily review well here. I’ve decided to write about something a little different going forward. I have four main focuses in life, my family, my work, my writing, and my grappling.

You may think that writing is my work, and it is, but right now it’s more a work of passion and doesn’t pay the bills. To do that, I’m fortunate enough to work in computer animation for one of the world’s most successful gaming companies.

My average day tends to look something like this, I wake up at 5:30 AM, make coffee, and write for an hour or so. With my wife’s help, I spend the next couple of hours getting my children and myself ready for the day. Once I drop the kids off at school, my workday starts.

At work, I currently fill a director role, so I spend a great deal of time working to improve and maintain relationships with the people around me. I’m always looking ahead and focusing on how I can better improve myself, my co-worker’s working conditions, and how we can better connect and communicate.

The looking ahead part is challenging for me because I’m also focused on being mindful and present to help manage stress and anxiety. At times looking forward takes me out of that practice. I recently read two books that helped me a great deal with managing relationships and being more present. The Four Agreements and The Power of Now. Both books are somewhat spiritual, which I’m not a big fan of, but they do have nuts and bolts tools and strategies that help me to organize and clear out my anxious and stressful thoughts.

Twice a week, my wife makes time for me to go train with some of the best grapplers in the city. I learned through reading The Power of Now that the reason I probably enjoy combat sports so much is that it forces people to be present and in the moment. I often find myself after training feeling very balanced and at peace. It’s a sort of moving meditation. It took me forever to realize that fact, but obviously, my subconscious picked up on the benefits immediately. The first time I walked into a boxing gym in the late 90s I was hooked.

I remember walking into the gym with frustrating relationship problems. I was dating a person I shouldn’t have been and was feeling frustrated. I wanted to correct an impossible situation but couldn’t figure out how. I boxed for an hour or so, and when I left, I had the vague feeling that there was something troubling me. Then I remembered my relationship issue, only, It wasn’t a problem anymore. The hard training had given me a fresh perspective. I knew what I had to do, cut my losses, end things and move on. It felt like a superpower to be able to wash away that sort of negative feeling. I continued to box for several years after that and never looked back.

Over time I changed from training boxing to grappling because I also love wrestling and jiu-jitsu and because of head trauma concerns. I need all the brains I can get. In the past, I focussed my grappling game on being strong from the bottom, when someone is on top of me, trying to crush me. I’ve practiced submission techniques, (chokes and limb locks,) and sweeping maneuvers, (position reversals so that I end up on top of my opponent.) But in the past few years, I’ve fallen in love with the wrestling portion of grappling. Now my focus is on taking people to the ground using traditional wrestling tactics and keeping them pinned to the mat.

I recently bought roll-out grappling mats and twice a week, in my garage, I train my 5- and 8-year-old in wrestling. I love how quickly they learn and retain knowledge and I can already see their mind and bodies growing stronger and adapting to the sport.

I’ve always loved combat sports. I love the honesty of the training. People can act or look a certain way, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. It’s all about the quality of the training that you put in. If you’ve taken any shortcuts or claimed to be any more than what you are, you will be exposed through the training. But if you humble yourself, show up, and train consistently, you can’t help but become what the sport represents. You can’t help but grow strong, balanced, and resilient.

It’s my love of combat sports that was a big inspiration for my most recent Kellen HalfCaste book, but there’s far more to the story than just wrestling, and where this series is going to take you, you’ll have to read to believe.

Now I’m going to continue to write. You continue to read 🙂

Keep your wits about you and good luck.

Greetings from the treacherous frozen north.

In the past, I’ve struggled with what to write about in these newsletters. I find that the books I read aren’t always fiction and don’t necessarily review well here. I’ve decided to write about something a little different going forward. I have four main focuses in life, my family, my work, my writing, and my grappling.

You may think that writing is my work, and it is, but right now it’s more a work of passion and doesn’t pay the bills. To do that, I’m fortunate enough to work in computer animation for one of the world’s most successful gaming companies.

My average day tends to look something like this, I wake up at 5:30 AM, make coffee, and write for an hour or so. With my wife’s help, I spend the next couple of hours getting my children and myself ready for the day. Once I drop the kids off at school, my workday starts.

At work, I currently fill a director role, so I spend a great deal of time working to improve and maintain relationships with the people around me. I’m always looking ahead and focusing on how I can better improve myself, my co-worker’s working conditions, and how we can better connect and communicate.

The looking ahead part is challenging for me because I’m also focused on being mindful and present to help manage stress and anxiety. At times looking forward takes me out of that practice. I recently read two books that helped me a great deal with managing relationships and being more present. The Four Agreements and The Power of Now. Both books are somewhat spiritual, which I’m not a big fan of, but they do have nuts and bolts tools and strategies that help me to organize and clear out my anxious and stressful thoughts.

Twice a week, my wife makes time for me to go train with some of the best grapplers in the city. I learned through reading The Power of Now that the reason I probably enjoy combat sports so much is that it forces people to be present and in the moment. I often find myself after training feeling very balanced and at peace. It’s a sort of moving meditation. It took me forever to realize that fact, but obviously, my subconscious picked up on the benefits immediately. The first time I walked into a boxing gym in the late 90s I was hooked.

I remember walking into the gym with frustrating relationship problems. I was dating a person I shouldn’t have been and was feeling frustrated. I wanted to correct an impossible situation but couldn’t figure out how. I boxed for an hour or so, and when I left, I had the vague feeling that there was something troubling me. Then I remembered my relationship issue, only, It wasn’t a problem anymore. The hard training had given me a fresh perspective. I knew what I had to do, cut my losses, end things and move on. It felt like a superpower to be able to wash away that sort of negative feeling. I continued to box for several years after that and never looked back.

Over time I changed from training boxing to grappling because I also love wrestling and jiu-jitsu and because of head trauma concerns. I need all the brains I can get. In the past, I focussed my grappling game on being strong from the bottom, when someone is on top of me, trying to crush me. I’ve practiced submission techniques, (chokes and limb locks,) and sweeping maneuvers, (position reversals so that I end up on top of my opponent.) But in the past few years, I’ve fallen in love with the wrestling portion of grappling. Now my focus is on taking people to the ground using traditional wrestling tactics and keeping them pinned to the mat.

I recently bought roll-out grappling mats and twice a week, in my garage, I train my 5- and 8-year-old in wrestling. I love how quickly they learn and retain knowledge and I can already see their mind and bodies growing stronger and adapting to the sport.

I’ve always loved combat sports. I love the honesty of the training. People can act or look a certain way, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. It’s all about the quality of the training that you put in. If you’ve taken any shortcuts or claimed to be any more than what you are, you will be exposed through the training. But if you humble yourself, show up, and train consistently, you can’t help but become what the sport represents. You can’t help but grow strong, balanced, and resilient.

It’s my love of combat sports that was a big inspiration for my most recent Kellen HalfCaste book, but there’s far more to the story than just wrestling, and where this series is going to take you, you’ll have to read to believe.

Now I’m going to continue to write. You continue to read 🙂

Keep your wits about you and good luck.

Merry Christmas, reader, from the festive frozen north.

Kellen HalfCaste, Book 1: The Hammer and Snow is finally here!

I’m so excited to share my latest book with you. For your new copy, please click the cover:

An orphan wrestler raised among cole dust and steel.

A vile king clinging to his reign by a skeletal grasp.

When eighteen-year-old Kellen HalfCaste’s mentor poisons him and his best friend he is forced out into the streets to survive by any means necessary. Hunted by Vampires and the king’s men alike, Kellen must learn why his brutal world has been slammed on its crown.

Could the rumors of a base-born heir to the throne be true?

Kellen must find balance in a world where the scales are tipped if he is to defend himself against the corrupt and unjust.

Cast as a born loser in a contest where the victors were decided long ago, is Kellen truly a mere pawn in this cruel game of hammer and snow?

Welcome to book 1 in the Kellen HalfCaste adventure.

A series within the Cyrus LongBones universe.

I think the first book in my newest series is my best story yet. I really hope you enjoy it!

Thanks, reader, for your continued support, and have a happy new year 🙂

Jeremy Mathiesen

Where dark tales dwell

Norse barbarians pillaging from the east…

Welsh raiders attacking from the west…

A Norman noblewoman trapped in a strange land…

…lured by a tyrannical family.

An English boatbuilder forced to flee his home…

…and make a new life in a village bound in conspiracy.

The Evening and Morning is the prequel to Kellen Follet’s masterful Pillars of the Earth trilogy. Watch bent bishops conspire to rob their King, powerful brothers plots to murder their kin, and forbidden love entangle the classes.

Will selfish temptation thwart honest endeavors to bring prosperity and justice to a corrupt, backwater hamlet, or will the good go unpunished for their well-intentioned deeds?

Once again, Ken Follet beautifully blends factual history and fictional adventure through the perilous lives of common and uncommon people attempting to forge their way out of the Dark Ages.

Scoundrels, Viking, romance, and rage await you within Ken Follet’s The Evening and the Morning

For adult audiences only

Get it now

Norse barbarians pillaging from the east…

Welsh raiders attacking from the west…

A Norman noblewoman trapped in a strange land…

…lured by a tyrannical family.

An English boatbuilder forced to flee his home…

…and make a new life in a village bound in conspiracy.

The Evening and Morning is the prequel to Kellen Follet’s masterful Pillars of the Earth trilogy. Watch bent bishops conspire to rob their King, powerful brothers plots to murder their kin, and forbidden love entangle the classes.

Will selfish temptation thwart honest endeavors to bring prosperity and justice to a corrupt, backwater hamlet, or will the good go unpunished for their well-intentioned deeds?

Once again, Ken Follet beautifully blends factual history and fictional adventure through the perilous lives of common and uncommon people attempting to forge their way out of the Dark Ages.

Scoundrels, Viking, romance, and rage await you within Ken Follet’s The Evening and the Morning

For adult audiences only

Get it now

Invisible demon Messerschmitts…

…impossible to evade.

A dazed Allied airforce…

…on its last legs.

By what dark magic is the enemy Luftwaffe ripping English bombers from the night and winning the day?

When Harald Olufsen takes a shortcut across a German-occupied Danish island, he discovers a strange secret that the German’s would die to keep and that the English would kill to know.

With the resistance in tatters, enemy soldiers all around, and the North Sea barring his escape, how will Harald get this desperately needed knowledge to the Allies in Great Britain?

Ships are too risky and the only plane available to him is an old Hornet Moth biplane held together by canvas and rust. Even if the rotting plane could fly, Harald cannot…

Get it now

Invisible demon Messerschmitts…

…impossible to evade.

A dazed Allied airforce…

…on its last legs.

By what dark magic is the enemy Luftwaffe ripping English bombers from the night and winning the day?

When Harald Olufsen takes a shortcut across a German-occupied Danish island, he discovers a strange secret that the German’s would die to keep and that the English would kill to know.

With the resistance in tatters, enemy soldiers all around, and the North Sea barring his escape, how will Harald get this desperately needed knowledge to the Allies in Great Britain?

Ships are too risky and the only plane available to him is an old Hornet Moth biplane held together by canvas and rust. Even if the rotting plane could fly, Harald cannot…

Get it now