Eric A. Radulski's Blog
April 28, 2025
The Audacity to Begin
Every story starts the same way: with a first sentence.
But what exactly is a first sentence?
Philip Pullman, in Daemon Voices, offers a powerful metaphor: the first sentence is a point in phase space—that multidimensional space where every possible parameter of a system is represented. In physics, a one-dimensional system is called a phase line; two dimensions make a phase plane. In quantum mechanics, phase space gives position and momentum equal weight, allowing a fuller, richer understanding of a system's behavior.
The first sentence of a story exists the same way: not as a beginning and an end, but as a point surrounded by limitless possibilities. Every degree of freedom—character, tone, setting, conflict, promise—is alive in that single moment. Every path is open. Every story waits.
And that’s terrifying.
Before we can even begin to navigate the overwhelming vastness of the creative phase space, we first have to become available—we have to leave fear behind.
Artists, in particular, are called to overcome the fears of ordinary men.
To borrow a line from David Eddings' Magician’s Gambit: “Ordinary men live in fear all the time. Didn’t you know that? We’re afraid of the weather. We’re afraid of powerful men. We’re afraid of the night and the monsters that live in the dark. We’re afraid of growing old and of dying. Sometimes, we’re even afraid of living...”
Pushing through fear, we must embrace the bad weather, speak back to power, and even welcome a few monsters from the dark corners of our imagination. We have to come to grips with our mortality—and find the audacity to live fully, without guarantees.
We have to overcome what Pullman calls “paralyzing self-consciousness”—that terrible inner voice whispering you can't—and create anyway. Loudly. Shamelessly. Without a net.
There’s always a secret hope that an audience will catch you mid-leap. (I had that hope once, and landed squarely on my head.)
But the leap must happen either way.
Pullman recalls a quote from Vincent Van Gogh about the fear many painters feel before the blank canvas: "Many painters are afraid in front of the blank canvas, but the blank canvas is afraid of the real, passionate painter who dares and who has broken the spell of 'you can't' once and for all."
We writers need to do the same.
Break the spell.
Strike fear into the heart of the blank page with the sheer audacity to begin.
Pullman also humbly describes himself as living at the “vulgar end” of literature—the fluff under the bed of the great and sophisticated works. Reading 'Daemon Voices', I find that idea staggering in its honesty and humility.
If I can aspire to be a dust bunny somewhere in the back of the literary closet, brushing shoulders with that beautiful fluff—I’ll be thrilled.
But what exactly is a first sentence?
Philip Pullman, in Daemon Voices, offers a powerful metaphor: the first sentence is a point in phase space—that multidimensional space where every possible parameter of a system is represented. In physics, a one-dimensional system is called a phase line; two dimensions make a phase plane. In quantum mechanics, phase space gives position and momentum equal weight, allowing a fuller, richer understanding of a system's behavior.
The first sentence of a story exists the same way: not as a beginning and an end, but as a point surrounded by limitless possibilities. Every degree of freedom—character, tone, setting, conflict, promise—is alive in that single moment. Every path is open. Every story waits.
And that’s terrifying.
Before we can even begin to navigate the overwhelming vastness of the creative phase space, we first have to become available—we have to leave fear behind.
Artists, in particular, are called to overcome the fears of ordinary men.
To borrow a line from David Eddings' Magician’s Gambit: “Ordinary men live in fear all the time. Didn’t you know that? We’re afraid of the weather. We’re afraid of powerful men. We’re afraid of the night and the monsters that live in the dark. We’re afraid of growing old and of dying. Sometimes, we’re even afraid of living...”
Pushing through fear, we must embrace the bad weather, speak back to power, and even welcome a few monsters from the dark corners of our imagination. We have to come to grips with our mortality—and find the audacity to live fully, without guarantees.
We have to overcome what Pullman calls “paralyzing self-consciousness”—that terrible inner voice whispering you can't—and create anyway. Loudly. Shamelessly. Without a net.
There’s always a secret hope that an audience will catch you mid-leap. (I had that hope once, and landed squarely on my head.)
But the leap must happen either way.
Pullman recalls a quote from Vincent Van Gogh about the fear many painters feel before the blank canvas: "Many painters are afraid in front of the blank canvas, but the blank canvas is afraid of the real, passionate painter who dares and who has broken the spell of 'you can't' once and for all."
We writers need to do the same.
Break the spell.
Strike fear into the heart of the blank page with the sheer audacity to begin.
Pullman also humbly describes himself as living at the “vulgar end” of literature—the fluff under the bed of the great and sophisticated works. Reading 'Daemon Voices', I find that idea staggering in its honesty and humility.
If I can aspire to be a dust bunny somewhere in the back of the literary closet, brushing shoulders with that beautiful fluff—I’ll be thrilled.
April 21, 2025
A Reflection on Rage, Resurrection, and the Long Road to Better Writing
In 2012, I received a review that shook me to my core. It began with a quote from my own book:
“It was the most selfless thing I’d ever done, and the most selfish.”
Kill yourself. SERIOUSLY.
For days after finishing this “book” I kept thinking, “Oh, I have to go back and finish that story about that unlikeable guy who was... um... doing things...”
EXCEPT I WAS DONE. And when I remembered I was done, I got angry and disappointed and disgusted with the book all over again.
...
(The review goes on. If you’ve seen it, you know.)
It gutted me. Not just because of the venom, but because I understood where it came from. I could see the flaws. And worse, I had been too close to the material to see them myself.
When I wrote 'The Demon Hunter’s Apprentice', it was during National Novel Writing Month—November of 2009. I sprinted through it with all the enthusiasm and inexperience you’d expect from a young novelist. It was eventually picked up by the now-defunct Double Dragon Publishing (no relation to the game), but the truth is, the book needed more: a firmer editorial hand, a sharper red pen, and a lot more time in the forge.
That70sHeidi’s review on Goodreads broke something in me. But over time, I came to respect it.
The original book was thin. Episodic. Underdeveloped. But instead of walking away, I went back to work. A later revision added characters like Djall, the Twelve Shields, and Shyla Stoddard—threads that would wind their way into future volumes.
Liam Gulban is still a fairly unlikable protagonist—and I like it that way. But now, there’s an explanation for his roughness. He’s no longer just a smirking rogue. He’s a trauma survivor. An orphan. A gladiator. A man trying to crawl out of the pit he was thrown into.
Fynn Danies, his love interest, also got an overhaul. She’s still fierce. Still flirtatious. But she’s no longer just a clinging archetype. She’s a woman running from her own regrets, using Liam as a distraction. In doing so, she becomes layered. Flawed. Real.
The plot has grown darker and deeper. What began as a simple quest has become mythic—tinged with betrayal, blood, gods, and grief. The revised version plants seeds I can now explore through the rest of the series.
And yes—when you boil it all down to the bitter residue... Heidi was right.
The original release wasn’t ready. And I wasn’t ready either.
But today? 'The Demon Hunter’s Apprentice' still has its imperfections—just like Liam—but it finally stands on its own. The story hums. The characters breathe. Even Fynn and Liam’s brief relationship finds its footing in the emotional landscape of the book.
And now, I’m done tinkering.
The final version clocks in at 6 hours and 53 minutes on Audible, narrated by Eric Priessman, who did an admirable job bringing Liam’s world to life.
I’m sorry I released something so raw back in 2010, but I learned. I’ve grown. And I’m still learning. In fact, I gave the book one last revision just last month.
And now, it’s finished.
Let the reviews come. I’m a better writer for what’s come before—and I can’t wait to show you what happens next.
“It was the most selfless thing I’d ever done, and the most selfish.”
Kill yourself. SERIOUSLY.
For days after finishing this “book” I kept thinking, “Oh, I have to go back and finish that story about that unlikeable guy who was... um... doing things...”
EXCEPT I WAS DONE. And when I remembered I was done, I got angry and disappointed and disgusted with the book all over again.
...
(The review goes on. If you’ve seen it, you know.)
It gutted me. Not just because of the venom, but because I understood where it came from. I could see the flaws. And worse, I had been too close to the material to see them myself.
When I wrote 'The Demon Hunter’s Apprentice', it was during National Novel Writing Month—November of 2009. I sprinted through it with all the enthusiasm and inexperience you’d expect from a young novelist. It was eventually picked up by the now-defunct Double Dragon Publishing (no relation to the game), but the truth is, the book needed more: a firmer editorial hand, a sharper red pen, and a lot more time in the forge.
That70sHeidi’s review on Goodreads broke something in me. But over time, I came to respect it.
The original book was thin. Episodic. Underdeveloped. But instead of walking away, I went back to work. A later revision added characters like Djall, the Twelve Shields, and Shyla Stoddard—threads that would wind their way into future volumes.
Liam Gulban is still a fairly unlikable protagonist—and I like it that way. But now, there’s an explanation for his roughness. He’s no longer just a smirking rogue. He’s a trauma survivor. An orphan. A gladiator. A man trying to crawl out of the pit he was thrown into.
Fynn Danies, his love interest, also got an overhaul. She’s still fierce. Still flirtatious. But she’s no longer just a clinging archetype. She’s a woman running from her own regrets, using Liam as a distraction. In doing so, she becomes layered. Flawed. Real.
The plot has grown darker and deeper. What began as a simple quest has become mythic—tinged with betrayal, blood, gods, and grief. The revised version plants seeds I can now explore through the rest of the series.
And yes—when you boil it all down to the bitter residue... Heidi was right.
The original release wasn’t ready. And I wasn’t ready either.
But today? 'The Demon Hunter’s Apprentice' still has its imperfections—just like Liam—but it finally stands on its own. The story hums. The characters breathe. Even Fynn and Liam’s brief relationship finds its footing in the emotional landscape of the book.
And now, I’m done tinkering.
The final version clocks in at 6 hours and 53 minutes on Audible, narrated by Eric Priessman, who did an admirable job bringing Liam’s world to life.
I’m sorry I released something so raw back in 2010, but I learned. I’ve grown. And I’m still learning. In fact, I gave the book one last revision just last month.
And now, it’s finished.
Let the reviews come. I’m a better writer for what’s come before—and I can’t wait to show you what happens next.
September 15, 2015
Free eBooks!
This is a pretty straightforward post... message me here at Goodreads with the title of one of my novels & an e-mail address. I'll send you a copy of the novel in PDF format for FREE!
This offer is for a limited time, so write me SOON!
Thanks,
Eric
This offer is for a limited time, so write me SOON!
Thanks,
Eric
May 13, 2015
September 15, 2014
The Demon Hunter's Apprentice
At long last, the extensive edit of The Demon Hunter's Apprentice has arrived...
The Demon Hunter's Apprentice - Extended Edition
If you've read it before, I urge you to read it again. The story just got much, much more interesting...
The Demon Hunter's Apprentice - Extended Edition
If you've read it before, I urge you to read it again. The story just got much, much more interesting...
