Martin D. Gibbs's Blog
March 10, 2015
Back in the Saddle... sort of
As 2014 came to a close, so too did my writing "career" (if you want to call it that). My real job had taken over my life; what free minutes I had were spent with the kiddos. Now that the chaos and nightmare has abated, I'm again feeling the itch to write.
Well, write and actually publish something. Something worthwhile. I'm looking at my pile of books and cringe: Some are decent and I'm proud of; others are quite... amateur. But what the hell, eh? I don't necessarily do this to make money, and if even one reader enjoys something I've written, I feel as if I have succeeded.
Anyway.
So I have a solid draft of a book about a mythical fourth wise man (riffing on We Three Kings) and themes from the Nativity. My wife has graciously edited it and I'm cleaning up the dross and flubs now.
If anyone would like to take a look at it for me, I'd be much appreciated.
In my beginnings as a writer, I was way too eager to pull the trigger on publishing anything; now, I've gone the other way and am quite gun-shy. But I think this book has better character development and a stronger message of forgiveness and hope.
That's all for now.
Well, write and actually publish something. Something worthwhile. I'm looking at my pile of books and cringe: Some are decent and I'm proud of; others are quite... amateur. But what the hell, eh? I don't necessarily do this to make money, and if even one reader enjoys something I've written, I feel as if I have succeeded.
Anyway.
So I have a solid draft of a book about a mythical fourth wise man (riffing on We Three Kings) and themes from the Nativity. My wife has graciously edited it and I'm cleaning up the dross and flubs now.
If anyone would like to take a look at it for me, I'd be much appreciated.
In my beginnings as a writer, I was way too eager to pull the trigger on publishing anything; now, I've gone the other way and am quite gun-shy. But I think this book has better character development and a stronger message of forgiveness and hope.
That's all for now.
August 18, 2014
Love is a Pale Road...
... For Death waits at the end.
So anyway. Somebody I knew had read The Spaces Between: a Novel, and remarked that it had no love interest. There weren't even women in it, really, except for a mother, who was mentioned only briefly. At the time I didn't care, because that book was really a therapeutic exercise, the bulk written after my father died.
Time passes swiftly, smoothing over the scars and offering perspectives on future possibilities.
The publisher of the novel gave me back my rights, and said something to the effect of: "I didn't get any exposure until I put a heart on the cover of one of our titles."
Believe me, I didn't want to go re-writing The Spaces Between, but yet there was a thread deep within that could definitely be turned into a love story. It meant a different ending, different characters, and a little more focus.
But it worked.
It's a shorter novel, only 48k, but I think it conveys what I wanted out of it: A heartbreaking journey told through the eyes of a simple-minded farmer; danger; magic; warlocks; and sickening betrayal.
There's not really a happily-ever-after, but there is reconciliation and closure. Happiness is possible, though love's pale road ends too often in death.
Love's Pale Road
[image error]
(Thank you Karri Klawitter for the awesome cover)
So anyway. Somebody I knew had read The Spaces Between: a Novel, and remarked that it had no love interest. There weren't even women in it, really, except for a mother, who was mentioned only briefly. At the time I didn't care, because that book was really a therapeutic exercise, the bulk written after my father died.
Time passes swiftly, smoothing over the scars and offering perspectives on future possibilities.
The publisher of the novel gave me back my rights, and said something to the effect of: "I didn't get any exposure until I put a heart on the cover of one of our titles."
Believe me, I didn't want to go re-writing The Spaces Between, but yet there was a thread deep within that could definitely be turned into a love story. It meant a different ending, different characters, and a little more focus.
But it worked.
It's a shorter novel, only 48k, but I think it conveys what I wanted out of it: A heartbreaking journey told through the eyes of a simple-minded farmer; danger; magic; warlocks; and sickening betrayal.
There's not really a happily-ever-after, but there is reconciliation and closure. Happiness is possible, though love's pale road ends too often in death.
Love's Pale Road
[image error]
(Thank you Karri Klawitter for the awesome cover)
May 8, 2014
The First Thunderstorm
I have been through many Midwestern winters, living in this so-called tropical paradise of MN. This year was a doozy, however. We had a record number of below-zero days, the frost line went down to almost six feet, and we had a crap-ton of snow that never melted.
There were some silver linings, however. The cold supposedly killed the ash borer, my igloo never melted, and I got in three years' worth of XC skiing in one winter.
But yesterday morning, my ears thrummed with the most wonderful sound of spring: Thunder. Sparks of lightning lit up the early sky; they bolted down from behind a gorgeous half-formed shelf cloud. The smell of ozone was thick in the air, and I suddenly felt myself again.
It reminded me of why I put up with -29F just a few weeks ago. And people call us crazy, but sometimes I feel like the man in the following anecdote:
A man is continually beating himself with a hammer. When asked why he keeps doing it, he responds:
Because it feels so good when I stop!
There were some silver linings, however. The cold supposedly killed the ash borer, my igloo never melted, and I got in three years' worth of XC skiing in one winter.
But yesterday morning, my ears thrummed with the most wonderful sound of spring: Thunder. Sparks of lightning lit up the early sky; they bolted down from behind a gorgeous half-formed shelf cloud. The smell of ozone was thick in the air, and I suddenly felt myself again.
It reminded me of why I put up with -29F just a few weeks ago. And people call us crazy, but sometimes I feel like the man in the following anecdote:
A man is continually beating himself with a hammer. When asked why he keeps doing it, he responds:
Because it feels so good when I stop!
July 31, 2013
Time
Reading Proust's In Search of Lost Time has already done quite a number on me. It is the most beautifully written prose I have had the luxury of falling into, and the most thought-provoking novels (mostly due to its sheer size and scope).
And so I find myself, like the Narrator, savoring my virtual madeleine, trying to recapture the past; return to a life that wasn't this complicated.
I started out a reader, as future writers must. But then I took the dangerous step and put my own pen to paper, trying to emulate those famous scribblers. This was done purely for fun, and never a serious attempt to publish anything. Years went by, and my reader self remained addicted to books, while the writer came out of his shell every five years or so.
Then the whole "self-publising" thing became a "thing" and people (1/1000th% of the authors publishing their works) were making tons of cash pushing out their own works. Heck, I could write, right? Sure! I was a freaking master, I was better than... better than... ach, I don't even want to admit what my foolish mind had conjured.
What in the name of all tire manufacturers was I thinking?!
Yes, the traditional route is frustrating. Apart from a poem I wrote at 15, I had nothing out there. So to think that I could some great fantasy epic and beat out the greats was flat-out ridiculous. But yet I flailed my wings at the gates time and again, hoping that somehow my next book would become the big hit and I'd be on easy street.
Then Proust helped me open my eyes and look back into the past, a past where reading was the important piece, and writing was done for fun. Yes, I write and I publish. I have a cool thing going with Rooster Republic, and I even have a small novella I *might* put out into the ether, but it will be a quiet thing.
The madeleine is almost gone, but there is a memory still there: A young kid, with his dad's old fountain pen, a ream of paper, and a stack of books. He's reading, then writing; crafting new worlds, plots, poems, and stream-of-consciousness. He's emulating the greats and the so-so's. But he's enjoying every minute of it.
I want that back.
This is why I have unfollowed a ton of authors on Twitter, not out of bitterness or unkindness, but because I am sick of 1000 promo feeds about your latest 5* review. Maybe you do have the next bestseller out there, but I'm really sick of self-promotion. Hell, I'm as guilty as anyone in doing it--it was all part of the next step to my indie success (or so I thought).
And so I find myself, like the Narrator, savoring my virtual madeleine, trying to recapture the past; return to a life that wasn't this complicated.
I started out a reader, as future writers must. But then I took the dangerous step and put my own pen to paper, trying to emulate those famous scribblers. This was done purely for fun, and never a serious attempt to publish anything. Years went by, and my reader self remained addicted to books, while the writer came out of his shell every five years or so.
Then the whole "self-publising" thing became a "thing" and people (1/1000th% of the authors publishing their works) were making tons of cash pushing out their own works. Heck, I could write, right? Sure! I was a freaking master, I was better than... better than... ach, I don't even want to admit what my foolish mind had conjured.
What in the name of all tire manufacturers was I thinking?!
Yes, the traditional route is frustrating. Apart from a poem I wrote at 15, I had nothing out there. So to think that I could some great fantasy epic and beat out the greats was flat-out ridiculous. But yet I flailed my wings at the gates time and again, hoping that somehow my next book would become the big hit and I'd be on easy street.
Then Proust helped me open my eyes and look back into the past, a past where reading was the important piece, and writing was done for fun. Yes, I write and I publish. I have a cool thing going with Rooster Republic, and I even have a small novella I *might* put out into the ether, but it will be a quiet thing.
The madeleine is almost gone, but there is a memory still there: A young kid, with his dad's old fountain pen, a ream of paper, and a stack of books. He's reading, then writing; crafting new worlds, plots, poems, and stream-of-consciousness. He's emulating the greats and the so-so's. But he's enjoying every minute of it.
I want that back.
This is why I have unfollowed a ton of authors on Twitter, not out of bitterness or unkindness, but because I am sick of 1000 promo feeds about your latest 5* review. Maybe you do have the next bestseller out there, but I'm really sick of self-promotion. Hell, I'm as guilty as anyone in doing it--it was all part of the next step to my indie success (or so I thought).
April 26, 2013
Would Following Yonder Star sell better if the Three Wise Men were vampires?
Gasp!
I’m sorry that I even went there, but as I took a walk this morning, I started thinking about what really appeals to the general public. We have:
· Romance: twisted, sick, degenerate stuff like 50 Shades. Not the heart-warming tales of Nicholas Sparks; that stuff is fine.
· Vampires: I never understood how one could romanticize creatures that never die, live off of human blood, and are basically the spawn of Satan. Read Brian Lumley some time if you want a clear line between Good vs. Evil when it comes to vampires. Lumley’s creations are most definitely evil and there is not a shred of anything redeemable in them.
· Zombies: Again, why do slow-moving, crumbling, decaying entities grab us so? Is it because of Night of the Living Dead? That un-escapable nightmare where the monster catches you, no matter how fast your run, or how slow it moves?
And these types of books and movies top the charts!
“Hey, writer-man, I thought you just wrote for fun. You said this story wrote itself, so why do you care what sells!?”
That voice--a blend of family, friends, and my own conscience--has a valid point.
And it’s true.
After Epiphany Mass in 2012, I began drafting the journey of the wise men, and started my research. Their snippet in Matthew always left me hungry for more; so when I discovered that there wasn’t a whole lot of other information about these men, I crafted my own adventure. Of course I was careful to stick to the research that had been done, and to Matthew, but the rest was my own extended prayer for mankind. So, in a sense, this was just a story in my head that I wanted to tell.
But... the reaction I have received when I do signings (at stores, churches, etc.) is a humbling one. People actually enjoyed the story. They found it unique that these men were described as real human beings, that the reader could join in on the journey. I realize that I only touched a hundredth of a percent of potential readers, but it gives me hope that others will like this.
What if I made these guys into zombies or vampires? Hey, now there’s shock value, there’s appeal. I smell talk shows and lawsuits and a slew of negative press, followed by massive sales. There ya go, that’s the ticket! If only I sell my soul, I can make millions!
I believe the question is thus answered. It is a sad time in our society when we put more value into football, entertainment, and the Kardashians, than we do in working for the greater good.
Instead of digesting books and media that uplift people, call us to reflection and prayer, or inspire us to help those less fortunate, we read about zombies, vampires, and deviant behavior. The media moguls have appealed to our animal instincts: And it works.
So this stuff sells, and people buy it. I’m not really here to pass moral judgment, just observe the phenomenon. Heck, I’m a guy who likes to watch a shoot-‘em-up movie over a tear-jerker any day. But I’m also one of those strange men who has the entire Golden Girls collection on DVD, I’d rather read old literature than anything modern, and I don’t like zombies.
“What are you talking about?!”
I don't know... I'm sorry, but this is turning into very long, late-April rant. We still have snow on the ground in MN.
I shouldn’t be terribly upset that Following Yonder Star hasn't overtaken 50 shades; besides, I don’t want that kind of publicity anyway. I just feel a little bit sad that society has gone the way it has. Zombies, vampires, and gross sex are the top-sellers. And, if I wanted to appeal to my own animal nature, I can be pretty sure that, were the three kings vampires, it would be at #1 by Christmas.
Instead, however, readers will have to take comfort in the story that it is: A spiritual journey, a story of friendship, dedication, faith, and love. It’s a reminder of what Christmas truly means, and that the Christmas spirit is not limited to the Macy’s/Target/Wal-Mart-designated holiday time frame.
I’m sorry that I even went there, but as I took a walk this morning, I started thinking about what really appeals to the general public. We have:
· Romance: twisted, sick, degenerate stuff like 50 Shades. Not the heart-warming tales of Nicholas Sparks; that stuff is fine.
· Vampires: I never understood how one could romanticize creatures that never die, live off of human blood, and are basically the spawn of Satan. Read Brian Lumley some time if you want a clear line between Good vs. Evil when it comes to vampires. Lumley’s creations are most definitely evil and there is not a shred of anything redeemable in them.
· Zombies: Again, why do slow-moving, crumbling, decaying entities grab us so? Is it because of Night of the Living Dead? That un-escapable nightmare where the monster catches you, no matter how fast your run, or how slow it moves?
And these types of books and movies top the charts!
“Hey, writer-man, I thought you just wrote for fun. You said this story wrote itself, so why do you care what sells!?”
That voice--a blend of family, friends, and my own conscience--has a valid point.
And it’s true.
After Epiphany Mass in 2012, I began drafting the journey of the wise men, and started my research. Their snippet in Matthew always left me hungry for more; so when I discovered that there wasn’t a whole lot of other information about these men, I crafted my own adventure. Of course I was careful to stick to the research that had been done, and to Matthew, but the rest was my own extended prayer for mankind. So, in a sense, this was just a story in my head that I wanted to tell.
But... the reaction I have received when I do signings (at stores, churches, etc.) is a humbling one. People actually enjoyed the story. They found it unique that these men were described as real human beings, that the reader could join in on the journey. I realize that I only touched a hundredth of a percent of potential readers, but it gives me hope that others will like this.
What if I made these guys into zombies or vampires? Hey, now there’s shock value, there’s appeal. I smell talk shows and lawsuits and a slew of negative press, followed by massive sales. There ya go, that’s the ticket! If only I sell my soul, I can make millions!
I believe the question is thus answered. It is a sad time in our society when we put more value into football, entertainment, and the Kardashians, than we do in working for the greater good.
Instead of digesting books and media that uplift people, call us to reflection and prayer, or inspire us to help those less fortunate, we read about zombies, vampires, and deviant behavior. The media moguls have appealed to our animal instincts: And it works.
So this stuff sells, and people buy it. I’m not really here to pass moral judgment, just observe the phenomenon. Heck, I’m a guy who likes to watch a shoot-‘em-up movie over a tear-jerker any day. But I’m also one of those strange men who has the entire Golden Girls collection on DVD, I’d rather read old literature than anything modern, and I don’t like zombies.
“What are you talking about?!”
I don't know... I'm sorry, but this is turning into very long, late-April rant. We still have snow on the ground in MN.
I shouldn’t be terribly upset that Following Yonder Star hasn't overtaken 50 shades; besides, I don’t want that kind of publicity anyway. I just feel a little bit sad that society has gone the way it has. Zombies, vampires, and gross sex are the top-sellers. And, if I wanted to appeal to my own animal nature, I can be pretty sure that, were the three kings vampires, it would be at #1 by Christmas.
Instead, however, readers will have to take comfort in the story that it is: A spiritual journey, a story of friendship, dedication, faith, and love. It’s a reminder of what Christmas truly means, and that the Christmas spirit is not limited to the Macy’s/Target/Wal-Mart-designated holiday time frame.
February 28, 2013
Off the Deep End
... Well, not really, but getting there. I'm pretty much going into bizarro-mode, and not just in writing.
Let's see, there's the Proust 2013 reading group. I've always wanted to read À la recherche du temps perdu, and this group is very helpful and engaging.
I've also discovered Zane Grey as an alternative to the standard shoot-'em-up westerns. Great writing, great personal stories...
And of course work continues on the follow-up to Following Yonder Star, and Voltaire's Adventures Before Candide.
My profile picture now accurately resents my frame of mind. Chasing phantoms with a flyswatter.
Let's see, there's the Proust 2013 reading group. I've always wanted to read À la recherche du temps perdu, and this group is very helpful and engaging.
I've also discovered Zane Grey as an alternative to the standard shoot-'em-up westerns. Great writing, great personal stories...
And of course work continues on the follow-up to Following Yonder Star, and Voltaire's Adventures Before Candide.
My profile picture now accurately resents my frame of mind. Chasing phantoms with a flyswatter.
November 12, 2012
Following Yonder Star
Following Yonder Star
Did the Three Kings make the ultimate sacrifice?
How did they meet? How far did they travel? What hardships did they endure?
This story of historical fiction details their harrowing adventure across deserts, moors, mountains, and into the chamber of Herod. At each step, the devil tried to block their way, but they perservered and made their offering to the newborn King.
Did the Three Kings make the ultimate sacrifice?
How did they meet? How far did they travel? What hardships did they endure?
This story of historical fiction details their harrowing adventure across deserts, moors, mountains, and into the chamber of Herod. At each step, the devil tried to block their way, but they perservered and made their offering to the newborn King.
March 23, 2012
Part II of a Drunkard's Journey - Dead Spaces
I have just sent Part II to the editor, so we are looking at a late spring/early summer release. This is very exciting, but it also means I better fill in all the gaps in Part III (final ending is done)...
Also completing my historical Christian Fiction, will be ready by Christmas.
Also completing my historical Christian Fiction, will be ready by Christmas.
February 21, 2012
An Interview with Bimb
[Interviewer]: We have with us today a man known simply as Bimb, one of the main characters in the fantasy novel, The Spaces Between. Greetings, Bimb!
[Bimb]: Hello.
[I]: So, Bimb, you go by just Bimb. Do you have a last name?
[B]: Last...name?
[I]: Yes, like Zhyfrael Lynnheard... or Kahl Reustien...?
[B]: Fa.
[I]: Excuse me?
[B]: Fa is my Fa. I'm just Bimb, and there's Fa. Oh, and Ma, too, but Ma cries a lot. She cries too much. Do you have any more spicy drink?
[I]: I—what...? Oh, yes... here. Now, Bimb, it's true that you can talk to the dead, is that correct? Have you ever read The Necroscope?
[B]: I don't read. Fa reads. He reads big words. Zhy's Fa is dead...I talk to him.
[I]: And what does he say, what do you talk about?
[B]: We talk about music and travel. I play the sutan—a ten-string one. It is hard to play ten strings, Fa says, and it makes me happy to play it. I can play and then I talk to Zhy's Fa. He is nice, but sad.
[I]: Why is he sad?
[B]: Because Zhy is almost dead, he says. He says Zhy drinks all the time. He wants Zhy to be happy. I love my Fa. Zhy loves his, too, but Zhy's Fa can't talk to him to hear it.
[I]: Are there other dead people you talk to?
[B]: ... There are some. They come and go. I like Zhy's Fa best.
[I]: Do you love your mother?
[B]: She cries all the time. Do you want to hear my sutan? I can play it very well...
[I]: Perhaps later, after the interview.
[B]: I have to go pee. Do you have more questions?
[I]: I—well, just one perhaps. What do you know about demons or the Knights of the Black Dawn?
[B]: Fa says demons are made up by the Elders. He says they are not real. I have never seen the night, it is dark.
[I]: It is a different kind of Knight... a Knight is a type of soldier.
[B]: I see the Counsel Guard come around, but they walk by our farm. We have seven hundred thousand, four hundred and thirty six turnips. Three are broken.
[I]: So... you've never seen the Knights who fight demons?
[B]: Fa says demons are made up. I love my Fa. Can I go pee now...?
[I]: Yes, I suppose so.
[Bimb]: Hello.
[I]: So, Bimb, you go by just Bimb. Do you have a last name?
[B]: Last...name?
[I]: Yes, like Zhyfrael Lynnheard... or Kahl Reustien...?
[B]: Fa.
[I]: Excuse me?
[B]: Fa is my Fa. I'm just Bimb, and there's Fa. Oh, and Ma, too, but Ma cries a lot. She cries too much. Do you have any more spicy drink?
[I]: I—what...? Oh, yes... here. Now, Bimb, it's true that you can talk to the dead, is that correct? Have you ever read The Necroscope?
[B]: I don't read. Fa reads. He reads big words. Zhy's Fa is dead...I talk to him.
[I]: And what does he say, what do you talk about?
[B]: We talk about music and travel. I play the sutan—a ten-string one. It is hard to play ten strings, Fa says, and it makes me happy to play it. I can play and then I talk to Zhy's Fa. He is nice, but sad.
[I]: Why is he sad?
[B]: Because Zhy is almost dead, he says. He says Zhy drinks all the time. He wants Zhy to be happy. I love my Fa. Zhy loves his, too, but Zhy's Fa can't talk to him to hear it.
[I]: Are there other dead people you talk to?
[B]: ... There are some. They come and go. I like Zhy's Fa best.
[I]: Do you love your mother?
[B]: She cries all the time. Do you want to hear my sutan? I can play it very well...
[I]: Perhaps later, after the interview.
[B]: I have to go pee. Do you have more questions?
[I]: I—well, just one perhaps. What do you know about demons or the Knights of the Black Dawn?
[B]: Fa says demons are made up by the Elders. He says they are not real. I have never seen the night, it is dark.
[I]: It is a different kind of Knight... a Knight is a type of soldier.
[B]: I see the Counsel Guard come around, but they walk by our farm. We have seven hundred thousand, four hundred and thirty six turnips. Three are broken.
[I]: So... you've never seen the Knights who fight demons?
[B]: Fa says demons are made up. I love my Fa. Can I go pee now...?
[I]: Yes, I suppose so.
