Jonathan Renshaw's Blog, page 2

As a child, I never had any trouble dreaming. The ideas I dreamed up, often during the excellent opportunities afforded by afternoon maths classes, had a way of growing to alarming proportions and becoming projects that allowed me little sleep. Since then, I’ve almost always been working on one large project or another. But something I noticed about the trajectories from dreams to projects is that there was never any real division between the two stages. The idea generator could never be turned off and actually seemed to increase its output as the results of building led to new inspiration. I think most idea-driven people are like this because the objective is not to finish the job, but to make something special.

I wouldn’t be altogether surprised if the inventor of the wheel began by drawing and then building a square block as a kind of support, but then realized he could move it around more easily if he knocked off the four corners and gave it an axle, and then realized he could knock off the next eight corners … until he had the first wheel and beginnings of the first racing cart.

Writing is like this for me. As the book takes shape, I begin to understand what it wants to be. Corners get knocked off, spokes are added, and I realize the original idea described the starting point more than the final product. There were times I didn’t have this luxury and had to race for immovable deadlines. The results weren’t necessarily bad, there was seldom anything special or magical about them either. I find that creativity only really breathes when given space. If, however, the breathing starts to sound like snoring, we have a different kind of problem.

I have a number of music albums that I can listen to over and over, and then I have a few by the same artists that I can’t. Usually, when I go back and dissect the production, it becomes apparent that the ones that keep growing on me are the ones that were made with far greater labour. Occasionally one finds exceptions to this, but those exceptions are normally mysteries to artist and audience alike.

The writing of book 2 has been a very different experience to the one I imagined. At more than 40% longer than the first book, which was already on the long side, it’s been my biggest creative challenge to date. I know that, as a reader, the length of the process can be trying in a different way, because the progress isn’t visible. So I’d like to take you behind the scenes for a glimpse of what is happening and what to expect. I’ll do my best to keep this free of spoilers.

I wrote the rough draft at speed in about four months, but it was very rough. I didn’t stop to research or embellish anything, so if there was a passage that had to do with nautical terminology, my text would read something along the lines of, “The captain bellowed for the men to [adjust the thingummy and get the ship to do whatever ships are meant to do in these conditions]”. I have a smattering of sailing knowledge, but that’s from single-masted hobie cats, not these tall ships that are all flapping canvas and knotted spiderwebs. The same omissions applied to the specifics of cooking, language, culture, architecture, and many other fields which would spill parts of the story if named. It wasn’t just technical detail I put aside. I also skipped over sections that I didn’t feel ready to write, that weren’t dripping off fingers onto keys. The first draft held the core of the story, but it wasn’t readable, not even to me.

So when it came to the first rewrite, most of my attention went into plugging the holes and completing tricky parts of the narrative. Following this, I took a deep breath and approached the research mountain that glared down with a cruel smile. This stage took easily twice as long as either of the preceding two. Some of the research I handed over to members of the team, without whom I could never have borne the load. To be frank, this was a fairly tough and not entirely exhilarating process. I don’t mind research, but digging for obscure details under pressure is not great fun.

Many will know that infusing research into a novel is nothing like presenting it for a report. It requires far more digging. You could, of course, try something report-like by bending the story around the first mounds of information you discover, but that generally comes across as data dumping. You could also avoid details by using summary-style dodges – “The storm was terrible, but using remarkable skill, the captain held his crew together and they eventually managed to negotiate all the dangers of the waves and rocks.” It doesn’t burden the reader, but neither does it allow the reader to stand on the deck and share in the world of sailors. I find it pays to dig and dig until you find the information that feels right, that feels like it belongs. Detail is always more convincing than the absence of detail, but a few of the right details are more engaging than heaps of digressive ones. It’s ironic that it can take more research to present less information, but in the end, it takes the laboriousness from the reader’s shoulders and puts it on the author’s – where it belongs.

Another aspect to the research is that, when writing fantasy, you don’t want details to hearken too strongly back to any particular culture in our world if you can help it. I’ll use an example from the first book. When researching sword-making, there was a wealth of information on Japanese techniques. It was easy to find and there was more than enough for my purposes. But I realized that if I drew from only this, it would ring too many bells and people would be reading “Samurai” instead of “grey marshal”, ejecting them from the fantasy world being created in their minds. I felt the only way to get past this was to collect information from a range of cultures across the world. I churned it all together so that it was, in effect, cultureless, and then drew out what seemed to fit with the Castath people and their level of technology. I’ve tried to do the same thing in the second book. I think this makes for a more convincing sense of an unknown culture, which very strongly impacts a reader’s sense of place, of being somewhere new that still seems real. Once the narrative was tied together and the details worked in, it was time for the first edit.

With the second rewrite done, I was feeling quite spent. Usually, I don’t let anyone read the manuscript at this stage, but I needed help. It came in the form of a developmental or big-picture edit. I’ve always shied away from this kind of thing because outside comments on an incomplete process can bring more confusion than clarity. When a project is in a rough state, people tend to misunderstand, and their feedback conflicts with the objective which can be difficult to express. For an outsider to be able to see not just what it is but what it wants to be and how to get it there is like looking at a wriggling white larva and being able to say, “Honey bee!” or “Harvester ant!”, and hopefully not “Dung beetle!”

A good friend, who has been the team’s PR manager for some time, took on the task, and I don’t think I’ve ever had such helpful feedback on any project. It was the rope thrown down to haul me out from a creative mine shaft. That edit gave me the perspective I’d lost over the past few months. What followed was no small revision. It wasn’t about sandpapering rough edges but rather bashing corners from a large wheel that wasn’t turning properly. Many parts of the book went through a radical transformation, while others were simply removed and replace with better ones. The resulting book is something that finally rolls along without jarring. For the first time, I’m looking at it and thinking, “Yes, that’s what it was meant to be!”

Another member of the team has started working through the manuscript, highlighting and commenting on anything that needs attention. These comments will be added to a list I’m currently working through – corrections and ideas built up during the past few months. (All of this falls under the developmental edit, so you can see why the progress bar is not zooming across the page. 5% actually represents a pretty significant amount of labour). Many of the items on the list are sparks of inspiration. They arrive at odd and often inconvenient times for note-making, like when I’m trying to sleep, on the dance floor, hanging from a climbing wall or in a cinema. Many people have commented on the randomness of inspiration. When it alights like a drifting leaf, you can brush it off, but you won’t likely find it again. I make sure I snatch and record all those little ideas when they flit by. Digital notes work well, but there’s something about the immediacy to scratching thoughts on paper. There is one tiny note book that works well for me on hikes. It’s slightly bigger than a credit card, very thin, and holds about 60 pages. It was actually the inspiration behind Kalry’s walkabout diary – something small and light enough to hang around my neck.

Once I’ve finished with the current list of notes, I’ll use the compare document feature to check all the additions, and changes to the manuscript that appeared in the last stage, improving the flow and fixing the typos. Then I’ll do one more deep-level rewrite. Much of what I look for is explained here. A little over ninety chapters later, the alpha readers will hear the call to action. I’ll go through the manuscript again while they are busy. Once their feedback is incorporated, the beta readers will step forward and I’ll do another revision as they read. Graphics, sketches, print setup and so on will be happening in the background. Once the beta’s feedback has been worked in, it’s over to the final editor, the final corrections, print setup, audiobook recording, and the stores.

Readers and authors basically want the same thing – a good book as soon as possible. A few people have suggested that I split this sequel into two, or even three, in order to reduce the waiting time. I could actually earn more that way because nobody minds paying 3 x $4.99 but we all deliberate when presented with any ebook over $10. However, when I consider breaking this book into parts, it just doesn’t feel right for the series. Something of The Wakening’s identity would be lost.

I’d originally hoped to have the book out by the end of 2017, which would have been just under a 2-year write given that book1 expansions and self-publishing demands ate several months after the debut’s release. But that date was estimated when book2 was around 650 pages. When it grew by 50% to 980 pages, any thought of completing it by that time faded. I’ve learned my lesson and I’m not going to suggest another date until all variables are dealt with – nobody appreciates it when expectations aren’t met. When I look back and look forward, I can see that most of the hard yards are done, but there is still a healthy distance remaining. It is, however, the stage of the process when everything starts fitting together and the pace begins to pick up.

I’m working as fast as I can – attested by the typing cramps in both hands – but also as conscientiously as I can. I’m just reaching that energising stage where the overall form has begun to emerge and it inspires me afresh to make sure this this book is allowed to develop into all it wants to be. (And don’t anyone dare say, “Dung beetle!”)

Adventure and comfort are not synonyms. I doubt they’re even friends. With exceptions like tropical Goa and luxurious Bollywood, comfort is not what people envision when they think of India, but this is a country that certainly can be an adventure. Recently I had the privilege of spending a month here, and there were many in the group I travelled with who showed that if your intention is to grow a place in your heart for the people, you’re in for the best kind of adventure. We wanted to get to know the locals on the level of their lives. So we put our hands to manual labour out in their villages, shared their meals, slept on their floors, and squeezed into their trains, busses and rickshaws (for all of which, the maximum capacity is officially defined as “one more”).

It’s easy, within our normal social circles, to lose touch with the rest of humanity. The people “out there” are items on the news or locations on a map. Because we have no connection with them, we struggle to see them as “real”. When we are able to look through the eyes of another people at their own world, to feel their discomforts and hopes, to care for them as individuals with names and smiles … everything changes. They become real people. They become our people.

As you can probably imagine, for a writer, something like this would be rich with inspiration. I didn’t want to start writing anything new, but I did want to use the inspiration as fuel for the current works in progress. So I wrote in trains, planes and a host of odd corners that neither looked nor sounded anything like a traditional writing space. While there, I saw something I’ll remember every time my work space is less than ideal. We were in a rickshaw, darting through a busy part of Kolkata where the noise was within a few decibels of fracturing concrete. (If you haven’t heard the sound of these city streets, let me describe it as an orchestra of car hooters in which every player’s sheet is black with notes and every note is marked fortississimo.) As we darted from left to right whenever a half-space presented itself (lanes are taken, at best, as polite suggestions), I spotted an elderly Indian gentleman working at a typewriter two feet from the blaring street. It was too fast to snap a pic, but it was one of those fleeting moments of kinship. If he could write on the side of that road, I reasoned, I could write absolutely anywhere. Of course, this argument falls apart if the page emerging from his typewriter reads, “Shuuuut upppppp!!!!!”

On a more serious note, time spent in a country like this would have an influence on any writer’s way of seeing and representing people – a shift from knowing about to knowing, from head to heart. There were some key passages in Book 2 of The Wakening that I went back and rewrote based on how events impacted me. Slavery is a central theme in the Wakening, and modern day slavery is rife in India. There was much I saw and heard that broke my heart in ways I don’t want to forget. Even if we haven’t met them, the people held in bondage – many of them children – are our brothers and sisters. The heart-wrenching steps taken from sympathy to empathy close a space that should never have existed. There’s no poverty like isolation, and no wealth like community. In spite of the heartache, we returned home wealthier than when we left.

Some members of the Renshaw team were in India too, and I asked one of them to write some of her experiences for this blog post. Sophie, the newest addition to the team, is a psychology and law student with a long-held desire to stand against human trafficking. She has visited India before and was the first to tell me about this trip. When you go to India, people always warn you in capital letters to be very careful about what you eat or drink. Sophie is not ignorant of this, but she will eat or drink anything offered to her by an Indian child. I once saw a little boy hold up a bottle filled at a ditch. He smiled. She melted … and drank. If you know anything about the mighty Delhi belly, you’ll know that this was fearlessness of the highest degree.

Sophie’s passion for the country is uncontainable, and I’m hoping that, like me, you will be both inspired and challenged to think about the world around us in a fresh way. I’d like you to hear her experiences directly, so let me hand over. – JR

Sophie:

India – a country with a population of 1.2 billion. That means that India holds more people than the entire western part of the world put together. You’d believe it if you stood in some of the markets or train stations where it feels like the entire 1.2 billion has gathered. We had no idea so many people could fit into one space.

India can bring thousands of pictures and images to mind, because India knows nothing of neutrality. It also knows nothing about moderation. India is EXTREMELY noisy, EXTREMELY dirty, and EXTREMELY overwhelming. In just one day you can feel as if every single one of your senses has been completely awakened (and battered) by the voice that seems to scream “more” all around you. More love, more understanding, and more compassion.

It is not possible to fully experience any country from the inside of a tour bus or behind the window of a hotel room. In order to really understand a place you need to know how the local people do life – what is important to them and what a day in their lives looks like. We were fortunate enough to stay in the real India, not the India that people tell you about when they’ve been to the Taj Mahal and back. Most of our time was spent in Kolkata, or the City of Joy as it is known.

While there, we grew to love a group of children staying in makeshift shelters under a bridge. These children were rough and tough – they have to be. Their world has taught them to fight, brutally, in order to survive. They were often mean and hurt one another, but by spending time in their world, we had the opportunity to see past the tough exteriors. These are the children most vulnerable of being trafficked. With little education and in dire circumstances, they are the ones who fall most easily into the web of exploitation. We were with them in the day, but what happens to those little faces in the darkness of the night? Who protects them then? Their parents are not educated (many were little more than children themselves) and the police do not always offer the necessary support to protect these people. Traffickers will often take children by promising a better life with education and a good marriage, when actually from the moment they say goodbye to their parents, they are sold like animals and treated worse. Who is going to look for them if they go missing?

We walked the streets every day and often at night, getting to know them as our own, and as we walked we encountered the people of joy. Street children would often come up to us and pull on our sleeves thinking our white skin meant “dollas” (dollars). And children will be children –after begging, no, insisting for money, they would sometimes walk with us while holding our hands, and even swing from our arms before waving goodbye.

When we look at a situation for long enough, we can sometimes become dulled to the wrongness of what we are seeing. It is not right that people live on the streets, that they have to sleep, cook and wash on filthy sidewalks. It is not right that street children have to turn their sharp minds to manipulative schemes to get someone to buy them their only meal for the day. Sometimes you can even see their “managers” watching from nearby. It was a constant battle when walking the streets to remind myself that no matter how used to it I became, I should never think of it as normal or okay for people to live like that. I should never be okay to ignore a child I see every day because I gave her money yesterday. I am not saying we should give money to every single poor person that we encounter, but we can give dignity. I can stop and ask her what her name is and joke with her because I know a little Hindi. (Bengali is the main language in Kolkata, but most speak Hindi too.) I love the surprised expression on her face at that moment when I ask her name in an Indian language. This is something I can do every day. It costs me nothing, and it means that I am always able to give.

There is a movie that has recently been released called “Lion”. If you haven’t seen it, I would encourage you to do so. It will make what I’m saying come alive. The best part is that it is based in the beautiful city of Kolkata. Through Lion, I heard the staggering statistic that, in India, 80 000 children go missing every year. As I hear that number my mind races back to the bridge. What about Priya and Rubiya and Quban? My heart stops at the thought of the two street boys that we bought food and cold drinks for disappearing. Those are the children they are talking about. How do I sit at home and allow that to happen? What can I do?

I know that there are organisations that are doing incredible work and so I can sign up to their weekly/monthly updates. I can read their breaking news and I can rejoice at each survivor that is found because each survivor is worth celebrating! I can give. I’m not on the field yet, but I can support those who are. I can get down on my knees and pray to a God that knows and sees. A God who begs me in His word over and over again to GO to those who are in need.

“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—when you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood? … If you spend yourselves on behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday.” Isaiah 58:6-10

India is a complete juxtaposition of beauty and heartache. There is a quote that says, “The place where Jesus calls you is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” My heart comes alive at the exact place where India cries out for help. I would like to share a quote from one of my favourite books “Kisses from Katie”

“People who really want to make a difference in the world usually do it, in one way or another. And I’ve noticed something about people who make a difference in the world: They hold the unshakable conviction that individuals are extremely important, that every life matters. They get excited over one smile. They are willing to feed one stomach, educate one mind, and treat one wound. They aren’t determined to revolutionize the world all at once; they’re satisfied with small changes. Over time, though, the small changes add up. Sometimes they even transform cities and nations, and yes, the world.”

We can make a difference in this broken world with small acts of love and kindness because over time those acts add up. Let’s stop and love just one person. One more person each day.

“Full contact,” the instructor says. My gloves and pads are on, my opponent is a black belt, and the wall is lined with watching students – his friends, not mine. I’m the only foreigner here, and as I look around, that knowledge hits me with renewed force. I suddenly wish I hadn’t trained quite so hard this morning. I’ve been sweating around ten litres a day for two weeks – strength training in the morning, technique in afternoons, and a solid dose of cardio in the evenings. Every muscle is begging for a holiday. An ironic observer in my brain is sitting back, laughing at me. He glances out at my opponent who bounces around with obvious energy. “You’re going to die,” the observer informs me, while strapping on a seatbelt. I’m ready to collapse and sleep for two days, but I paste a confident smile on my face. “More than half of this is psychological,” I say to myself. Ironic observer snorts and gets his popcorn ready.

The thing about any kind of sequential technique is that it has to be so well rehearsed it can be recalled and acted on reflexively. There’s no time in the moment for, “Um, oh, yes – if you hold the knife that way then I need to use this hand and turn this way … no, wait, that way, and avoid, um … ouch!” I wonder if I’m going to be able to execute any of the numerous sequences I’ve been rehearsing.

Conversations subside till all we can hear is the whirring fans. Anyone who has played contact sports will know the rush of mindless adrenaline that takes place as teams surge towards each other. The thrill in a fight is more intense because you know your opponent has more comprehensive plans for you than just trying to stop or get past you. Of course, you have plans of your own for him, or you should have. The unfortunate reality is that the adrenaline keeps welling up and obscuring them. You have the rough idea memorized, though – win.

The fight starts. We avoid the dirty side of things like bending fingers and poking eyes (great for real self-defence), but we fight hard. By the fourth round, my internal observer is having to dive between steam jets from exploding valves and ricocheting rivets that shoot from bulging panels. I take a well-placed hook to the temple that spins my head guard around, covering my eyes. I don’t see the kick. I’m fairly certain it came from a horse. I once took a short flight courtesy of a large, feisty steed, so I make the comparison with some authority. The kick empties my lungs and almost empties my entire abdominal cavity. I half collapse, half dive at where I think my opponent is, and mercifully land on top of him, straightening my head guard as I do so. I just manage to hold in the vomit. Maybe I shouldn’t have – I’m pretty sure it would have won me the round. Spectacularly. Our instructor calls time which is probably a good thing – for both.

In spite of the exhaustion and bruises, I’ve seldom enjoyed myself so much. Very little gets the blood to race through vessels like heavy sparring. But this wasn’t about enjoyment as much as learning, and the amount I learned over the preceding two weeks is as much as I’d hoped for.

I started Krav Maga a few years back, so the style isn’t new to me, but what was new was the intensity of course and the experience of completing it in a profoundly foreign context. This was the main reason for the trip. It was important for me, while writing book 2 of The Wakening, to be reminded what it’s like to be a foreigner. Even when you are prepared for obvious differences – language, rules of the road, food, dress code, climate, and landscape – experiencing those differences, especially when you’re alone, brings a kind of disorientation that can’t really be understood by theory alone. It changes the way everything feels, from fighting to grocery shopping.

Being immersed in these details gave me several ideas about how a foreign setting would influence not just the actions, but also the state of mind of characters in the story. It has given me much to work with in the next rewrite of book 2, as well as in the rest of the series.

After the course, it was time to see the country, so for a week I travelled. This was the first time I’ve let someone else plan my itinerary, but it was the best decision I could have made. My PR manager researched and planned the week-long tour to perfection. Having that weight off my mind gave me the freedom to just let the environments soak into my thoughts.

Whenever I travel, I’m searching for stories. It’s not just a writer thing – I’ve been doing it all my life. Places inspire, but history does so even more, especially when you’re standing on the ground where the events took place. History, after all, is life, and it is life that inspires stories. Here are a few of the sights that have sent the story-manufacturing cogs whirring.

Perhaps I should just mention here that, when writing fantasy, I never base characters or regions directly on real people or places, because it just spoils that otherworldy experience. Aedan won’t at some point swim across a body of water so salty that it buoys him up like a float, burns his skin, and prevents anything surviving beneath it’s surface – a body of water known as the … er … Killed Sea. What I try to do when writing fantasy is harvest interesting experiences, look at the details that make them so, and use what I’ve learned to create new places and experiences within stories. Sometimes writers can stretch their worlds far past the one we know, but there needs to be some measure of relatability or there is no resonance, so discovering inspiration in the real world is important. Maybe it’s like any craft – you study what exists in order to know how to make something that doesn’t yet.

Bedouin camp in the Judean Desert

As you can see by the postures of the two men leading the group, this wasn’t camel racing, so an adrenaline rush it was not. But the spectacular openness of the desert, the oven-baked gusts of wind, and the complete unfamiliarity of almost everything I could see and touch made this Bedouin experience rich with inspiration. The camp itself is fairly commercialized, but the setting is nothing short of breathtaking in its rawness.

Masada

The best time to climb to Masada is before sunrise, partly to avoid the morning blaze, and partly because of the atmosphere that pre-dawn imparts to the ruins. The tragic history of this desert stronghold is as moving as the setting. Walking through the ancient buildings gives one a sense of privilege, and a poignant reminder of our mortality.

Safed

One of the most arty towns I’ve seen. There are galleries galore, musicians walking the streets, and charming restaurants with exceptionally toothsome food. In my opinion, the best places to stay here are the many small rooms attached to artist’s studios. I was at the neatest little spot owned by Shani and Sheva Chaya. It was literally five strides from an art gallery and a small glass-blower’s workshop where I had a fascinating demonstration of the craft.

Nimrod’s Castle in the Golan Heights

There is so much history in a castle. So much of the nature of humanity is expressed in those battlements forever watching the hills.

Can you see them? The band of attackers drifting down through the trees? Even now I can – I think. But if I raise the alarm and it turns out to be just my imagination … I wonder how many times these thoughts or similar ones churned behind arrow slits like this one.

Lake Tiberius (Sea of Galilee)

No, I was not swimming out into the lake at sunset. That would be irresponsible. The lake gets deep quickly and the currents are a little stronger than would be expected … apparently. This is a spectacular place. Sitting here on this sun-warmed ledge, I let the experiences of the past three weeks slosh and slap around like the water against the rocks below. Reading, researching and dreaming are good inspirations, but nothing competes with the texture of real life experience. These three weeks were well spent. I have much to take home with me, to invest into the pages of coming books.

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HaCkeD by MuhmadEmad

KurDish HaCk3rS WaS Here

[email protected]
FUCK ISIS !

Let me kick off with a message sent to me by a reader, Garrett Kidd. (Used with permission):

“Descriptions of martial skills have become so fanciful that they make up the majority of the fantasy in the book. It’s difficult to immerse yourself in a book when such a critical aspect has been done wrong.”

It’s a view we share. I remember reading one or two books in which combatants did things that were humanly impossible. Once I was so confused by a sequence that I tried to duplicate the hero’s actions and realised that the author had more or less broken the laws of physics to vanquish the foe. But there’s more to this than avoiding mistakes. When a writer really knows the subject, there’s a sense of conviction we get from the little details and unexpected observations. These are the things that convince me it’s really happening. It’s not easy to capture and personalize experiences you haven’t had – thawing yourself in front of a winter fire, skinning your toe, jumping off the high board, tasting ice cream for the first time, running in the rain (or hail if you’re less fortunate). They are all such rich experiences that can be explored in such interesting ways – and I’m convinced it’s the personal impressions and inflections rather than general details that make the descriptions most compelling.

Obviously there are some things mentioned in the book that I’d prefer not to write from experience for various reasons. But if it’s a crucial aspect to the story and a wholesome one to engage in, I’m there. Let me not pretend that this is all about a martyrish commitment to excellence. Much of it is just a love of adventure, and I suppose that’s what inspired much of this series. Who could fail to be inspired by climbing rock walls, swimming across snow-melt dams, rafting down rapids, or by that moment on the bungee platform when thrill and raw fear have a little standoff in your mind, when you look down at the ground and it seems approximately as far away as the moon, and you’re wondering exactly what part of this seemed like a good idea when you signed that indemnity … Whether you make the jump or accept a little helping shove, you’re buzzing afterwards and you’ll relive the experience many times over. I think adventure is terrific inspiration for writing, but it’s also inspiration for life.

To that effect, I’m heading to Israel for a few weeks of intensive Krav Maga training. You might have seen that in the first book there was quite a bit of hand to hand combat. There is going to be a good deal more in the second book. Because the skills of the characters will have improved, I want to deepen my own understanding of what I’m writing about. A second reason for the trip is the aspect of experiencing a foreign country and culture, which is also key to the second book. I need to be reminded of what it is to be in a place where things run differently – how it affects the little details of getting through the day. And the last reason – I need a break from writing!

The first revision was a quite a challenge, and it’s more or less done. All that remains is a few chapters I need to revisit with a fresh perspective, but right now I need rest and inspiration, so this comes at a good time.

The post Inspiration Strikes appeared first on Jonathan Renshaw.

As with anyone who writes a series, I receive quite a few questions about progress which I try to answer as best I can, but I thought it would be helpful to post something with a bit more detail. The biggest question I would want answered if I were on the reader’s side would be, “What is taking so long?” It’s a fair question and I’ll try to give it a fair answer.

The rough draft of book 2 took about four months to write. It held the basic plot (with gaps) and the general character arcs. The term, rough draft, though, is somewhat misleading. A better description would be a horrible, unreadable, rubbish draft. To the writer, it’s a magical draft because the writer sees the intention, and it is without doubt the most important draft. But if anyone else tried to read it, the experience would be most disappointing ― no, infuriating. The story is in there, but it takes the writer a great deal more work to extract it from the thorns. Enter rewriting.

“I have rewritten — often several times — every word I have ever published. My pencils outlast their erasers.” ― Vladimir Nabokov

“The only kind of writing is rewriting.” ― Ernest Hemingway

Rewriting is the process of going through the manuscript with infinite care and seeking to improve wherever improvement is possible. It’s more than editing, though that is a part of it. As the term suggests, much of the book is replaced and written with more care. There comes a point when one needs to let go, but that point, for most conscientious writers, is far removed from the first draft. I did several rewrites of the first book, the first being a massive overhaul and the last being a subtle tweaking of words to ensure that sentences sounded right, that the tones of adjacent words interacted well.

When it comes to rewriting, different authors have different foci. Here are some of the aspects I concentrate on, the things I try to achieve. To an extent, I look for anything that can improve at any point in the rewrites, but certain stages favour certain elements. I should also mention that with A Cloud in Her Eye, I’m running stages in parallel. More on that here. (What follows is a heavily abbreviated description. The full list is several pages long.)

1st draft. Rough story. Layers of potential. Unreadable.

1st rewrite. Add detail – specific replaces general (requiring a ton of research). Continuity of plot and realness of characters.  Relationships – to me, characters are revealed and known best by the relationships formed with other characters. If those relationships seem real, then the so do the characters. The most comprehensive list of qualities and mannerisms can’t deliver a fraction of the sense of personhood as a compelling interaction. I find that relationships are also the strongest root of a reader’s concern for the people in the story, leading to a far deeper emotional engagement. Perhaps even more important, relationships are one of the most effective ways to achieve resonance – that “I know exactly what you mean” sensation. When you read of people interacting in ways that ring true, the story begins to seem a lot more real, not in the sense of breaking fantasy, but of making the fantasy more believable. This, when it’s done right, leads to that experience we as readers are always searching for – immersion.

2nd rewrite. Depth, magic, sparkle, flow, atmosphere, word usage. This is where I try to get settings and characters to float up from the page. I also work hard at eliminating hackneyed, lazy forms of expression. I can spend hours on a few sentences, searching for fresh ways to convey ideas. This usually entails throwing out a hundred or more attempts that seem awkward before finding one that blends into the style of the book. Sometimes it’s the first idea that works best, flowing naturally off the page; often it takes a lot of thinking to reach an idea that flows as if it were the first one that came to mind.

Beta readers – first group. Beta readers can take a while, so I will probably write the rough draft of the third book during this time. It gives me a break from the one I’m rewriting, so I can come back to it with fresh eyes.

3rd rewrite. This one concentrates on the feedback from the beta readers. In the first book, I made significant improvements, cut a few scenes and wrote additional ones.

4th rewrite. General fixes. Restoration of continuity following the surgery (or butchery) in the previous revision. Again, I work on imbuing each page with more sparkle, magic, depth, emotion and resonance, both in characters and their settings.

Beta readers – second group.

5th rewrite. By this stage there shouldn’t be any major fixes necessary, but some tweaks will inevitably be needed. The rest of the revision will be smoothing out and finding typos. I’ll put an emphasis on sounding the book – getting rid of unwanted echoes and other tonal problems.

6th rewrite. This is quick and really more of a read-through – error spotting. External editing will likely run parallel to this.

While I’ll probably keep relatively close to this six-rewrite process, it’s more of a guide than a rigid structure, and there are sections that will likely be rewritten dozens of times. I rewrote the first chapter in the début perhaps 40 times before I was happy. First chapters are notorious. The artwork will happen in the background, so that by the time the last revision is done, the book should be ready to launch.

I’ll admit that I am strongly tempted (and strongly advised by many rapid-firing authors) to release as quickly as I can. But I’m not comfortable with that. The average amount of time taken to complete a decently written series of books around this length is not short, and as I’m finding out, there is good reason for that.

One last quote:

“What is written without effort is in general read without pleasure.”― Samuel Johnson

The effort going in on my side, will, I hope, be appreciated in the end. Thank you, everyone who has mailed me to tell not to rush it, to take the time to get it right. It really is encouraging to know I’m backed up in that way. Patience is a rare thing these days and I value the understanding more than you can imagine.

As a side note, Anyone know of some good resources for ancient (pre-cannon) sailing ships? I have a dozen or so books on the subject, but if you know of a gem or two, please mail me. Thanks.

I try to explain the status of book 2 to everyone who asks about a release date, but I thought it would be helpful If I posted something on my sadly neglected blog with a bit more detail. The biggest question I would probably want answered if I were on the reader’s side would be “What is taking so long?” It’s a fair question and I’ll try to give it a fair answer.

The rough draft of book 2 took about four months to write. It held the basic plot and the general character arcs. To call it a rough draft though, is somewhat misleading. A better description would be a horrible, unreadable, rubbish draft. To the writer, it’s a magical draft because the writer sees the intention, and it is without doubt the most important draft. But if anyone else tried to read it, the experience would be most disappointing ― no, infuriating. The story is in there, but it takes a great deal more work for the writer to extract it from the thorns. Enter rewriting.

“I have rewritten — often several times — every word I have ever published. My pencils outlast their erasers.” ― Vladimir Nabokov

“The only kind of writing is rewriting.” ― Ernest Hemingway

Rewriting is the process of going through the manuscript with infinite care and seeking to improve wherever improvement is possible. It’s more than editing, though that is a part of it. As the term suggests, much of the book is replaced and written with more care. There comes a point when one needs to let go, but that point, for most conscientious writers, is far removed from the first draft. I did several rewrites of the first book, the first being a massive overhaul and the last being a subtle tweaking of words to ensure that sentences sounded right, that the tones of adjacent words interacted well.

I’m currently finishing up the first and longest revision of the sequel. During this stage, I’m filling in gaps, fleshing out scrawny scenes, and tying it all together – melding plot and character. It’s also the stage where I do most of the hard research to make sure the book is solid in the way of terminology and technical accuracy. It’s long and slow. It was made slower by the fact that I was held up quite a lot. The marketing demands of book 1 intruded, but all those channels are now in place and I’ve been able to get back to serious writing.

When it comes to rewriting, different authors have different foci. Here are some of the aspects I concentrate on, the things I try to achieve. To an extent, I look for anything that can improve at any point in the rewrites, but certain stages favour certain elements. (This is a heavily abbreviated description. The full list is several pages long.)

1st draft. Rough story.

1st rewrite. Continuity of plot and personalities of characters. Add detail – specific replaces general (requiring a ton of research).

2nd rewrite. Depth, magic, sparkle, flow, atmosphere, creative word usage. This is where I try to get settings and characters to float up from the page. I also work hard at eliminating hackneyed, lazy forms of expression. I can spend hours on a few sentences, searching for fresh ways to convey ideas. This usually entails throwing out a hundred or more attempts that seem awkward before finding one that blends into the style of the book. Sometimes it’s the first idea that works best, flowing naturally off the page; often it takes a lot of thinking to reach an idea that flows as if it were the first one that came to mind.

Beta readers – first group. Beta readers can take a while. So I will probably write the rough draft of the third book during this time. It gives me a break from the book so I can come back to it with fresh eyes.

3rd rewrite. This one concentrates on the feedback from the beta readers. In the first book, I made significant improvements, cut a few scenes and wrote additional ones.

4th rewrite. General fixes. Restoration of continuity following the surgery (or butchery) of the previous revision. Again, I work on imbuing each page with more sparkle, magic, depth, emotion and resonance – both in characters and their settings.

Beta readers – second group.

5th rewrite. By this stage there shouldn’t be any major fixes necessary, but some tweaks will inevitably be needed. The rest of the revision will be smoothing out and finding typos. I’ll put an emphasis on sounding the book – getting rid of unwanted echoes and other tonal problems.

6th rewrite. This is quick and really more of a read-through – error spotting.

While I’ll probably keep relatively close to this six-rewrite process, I may well do another rewrite or two if the book needs it, and there are sections that will likely be rewritten dozens of times. I rewrote the first chapter in the début perhaps 40 times before I was happy. First chapters are notorious.

The artwork will happen in the background so that by the time the last revision is done, the book will be ready to launch.

I truly appreciate the enthusiasm for the second book. I’ll admit that I am strongly tempted (and strongly advised by many rapid-firing authors) to release as quickly as I can. But I’m not comfortable with that. I make no claim on being a good author, but I do make every effort to be the best author I can, and I believe this means producing better books instead of more books. It probably means less income, but I’m okay with that if it results in an improved product and happier customers. I just hope that you are okay with me taking longer to sculpt something better. Let me assure you that the revisions are not subtle tweaks. They make the difference between that which draws you in and that which you need to fight through. The improvements between the early and final versions of the début are huge.

I want book 2 to be as good as book 1 at the very least, preferably better. I’m working hard to improve my writing as I go, adding a part-time masters in English to the study diet. While I’m working as quickly as I can, I do need to mention that book 2 is probably going to end up as long as book 1, which, when multiplied by six revisions, is no minor prospect.

So, the question – how long will it take? Initially I thought I might have it done within a year of the first release, but I can see this is not going to happen. I also worry that if I set myself a desperate deadline, I won’t find that quiet space in which to dream, get lost in a new world, and then return to the manuscript to pour out the treasures I found. Realistically, then, it will probably be near the end of 2016. A long wait, I know, but I hope you can see that it’s because I’m working hard to deliver something that is worthy of a much-appreciated readership, not because I’m kicking back and watching cable. (I don’t even own a Time Vaporizer.)

One last quote:

“What is written without effort is in general read without pleasure.”― Samuel Johnson

The effort going in on my side, will, I hope, be appreciated in the end. Thank you, everyone who has mailed me to tell not to rush it, to take the time to get it right. It really is encouraging to know I’m backed up in that way. Patience is a rare thing these days and I value the understanding more than you can imagine.

The post Book 2 Progress appeared first on Jonathan Renshaw.

As with anyone who writes a series, I receive quite a few questions about progress which I try to answer as best I can, but I thought it would be helpful to post something with a bit more detail the actual process of writing. The process itself isn’t the main reason why the second book is taking longer than expected to finish. The main reason is simply the length of the book. It’s a colossal manuscript. At its current length of 420,000 words, it’s going to be one of the longest fantasy books on the shelves. There’s more on the details and progress of the book here.

The rough draft of book 2 took about four months to write. It held the basic plot (with gaps) and the general character arcs. The term, rough draft, though, is somewhat misleading. A better description would be a horrible, unreadable, rubbish draft. To the writer, it’s a magical draft because the writer sees the intention, and it is without doubt the most important draft. But if anyone else tried to read it, the experience would be most disappointing ― no, infuriating. The story is in there, but it takes the writer a great deal more work to extract it from the thorns. Enter rewriting.

“I have rewritten — often several times — every word I have ever published. My pencils outlast their erasers.” ― Vladimir Nabokov

“The only kind of writing is rewriting.” ― Ernest Hemingway

Rewriting is the process of going through the manuscript with infinite care and seeking to improve wherever improvement is possible. It’s more than editing, though that is a part of it. As the term suggests, much of the book is replaced and written with more care. There comes a point when one needs to let go, but that point is far removed from the first draft. I did several rewrites of book 1, the first being a massive overhaul and the last being a subtle tweaking of words to ensure that sentences sounded right, that the tones of adjacent words interacted well.

When it comes to rewriting, different authors have different foci. Here are some of the aspects I concentrate on, the things I try to achieve. To an extent, I look for anything that can improve at any point in the rewrites, but certain stages favour certain elements. (What follows is a heavily abbreviated description. The full list is several pages long.)

1st draft (Version 1). Rough story. Layers of potential. Unreadable.

1st rewrite (V2). Add detail – specific replaces general (requiring a ton of research). Continuity of plot and realness of characters.  I find that characters are revealed and known best by the relationships formed with other characters. If those relationships seem real, then the so do the characters. The most comprehensive list of qualities and mannerisms can’t deliver a fraction of the sense of personhood as a compelling interaction. Relationships are also the strongest root of a reader’s concern for the people in the story, leading to a far deeper emotional engagement. Perhaps even more important, relationships are one of the most effective ways to achieve resonance – that “I know exactly what you mean” sensation. When you read of people interacting in ways that ring true, the story begins to seem a lot more real, not in the sense of breaking fantasy, but of making the fantasy more believable. This, when it’s done right, leads to the experience we are always searching for as readers – immersion.

2nd rewrite (V3). Depth, magic, sparkle, flow, atmosphere, word usage. This is where I try to get settings and characters to float up from the page. I also work hard at eliminating hackneyed, lazy forms of expression. I can spend hours on a few sentences, searching for fresh ways to convey ideas. This often entails throwing out a hundred or more attempts that seem awkward before finding one that blends into the style of the book. Sometimes it’s the first idea that works best, flowing naturally off the page; often it takes much thinking to reach an idea that flows as if it were the first one that came to mind.

Internal test-reading / developmental (big picture) edit. This gives me a chance to step away for a while and work on something else. Getting away from the project enables me to come back to it with fresh eyes and usually a huge collection of fresh ideas.

3rd rewrite (V4). This one draws from feedback as well as the reams of new inspiration and ideas. In both book 1 and 2, as well as Cloud, I made significant improvements, cut scenes and wrote many additional ones.

4th rewrite (V5). General fixes. Restoration of continuity following the surgery (or butchery) in the previous revision. Again, I work on imbuing each page with more sparkle, magic, depth, emotion and resonance, both in characters and their settings.

Alpha readers and 5th rewrite ― based largely on feedback (V6). By this stage there shouldn’t be many major fixes necessary, but some tweaks will inevitably be needed. The rest of the revision will be smoothing out and finding typos. I’ll put an emphasis on “sounding” the book – getting rid of unwanted echoes and other tonal problems. Reading aloud is an important part of the process, for several reasons, not least of which is the need to consider audiobook production. Some combinations of words just sound richer than others, and some intersections of consonants can be impossible to pronounce.

Beta readers and 6th rewrite ― again driven by feedback (V7). Primarily addressing the areas that have been pointed out, this revision is lighter than the others.

Editor and necessary tweaks (V8) This is more of a line edit than a developmental one, so the rewrite will be more about typos and other errors.

While I’ll probably keep relatively close to this process, it’s more of a guide than a rigid structure, and there are sections that could be rewritten dozens of times. The nature of writing often demands a combination of linear and non-linear approaches. When focussing on a specific thread, one has to move between sections that can be hundreds of pages apart. It happens constantly when working to create depth, richness or layers of mystery in a character or sub-plot within the story. In parallel to this, there’s always a start-to-finish scouring process. So in reality, a single rewrite can actually contain at least two full rewrites, and in some sections a great many more. I rewrote the first chapter in the début perhaps 40 times before I was happy. First chapters are notorious. Book 2 now also has a few sections that have seen numerous rewrites within a single stage as they’ve been brought to life.

I’ve been advised by many to release as quickly as I can, even if the quality suffers. But I’m not comfortable with that. My thoughts constantly return to the books on my shelves I can re-read, that inspire me anew every time I return to their pages. The writing of those books required much time and great labour. If the authors that most inspire me had to put such effort into their writing, it brings a different perspective to the table. Their voices are quiet, but there’s great authority when they tell me to just knuckle down and work on the manuscript until it’s right.

One last quote:

“What is written without effort is in general read without pleasure.”― Samuel Johnson

The effort going in on my side, will, I hope, be appreciated in the end. Thank you, everyone who has mailed, telling me to get it right instead of shoving a half-finished book onto the shelves. It really is encouraging to know I’m backed up in that way. Patience is a rare thing these days and I value the understanding more than you can imagine.

As a side note, does anyone know of some good resources for ancient (pre-cannon) sailing ships? I have a dozen or so books on the subject, but if you know of a gem or two, please mail me. Thanks.

A most enjoyable interview with a fellow writer, now friend, Davis Ashura.

Davis: Today, I get to interview Jonathan Renshaw, author of the fantastic Dawn of Wonder, the first volume of his planned Wakening series.

But before we get to your book, Jonathan, let’s talk about what you’ve done in the past. There is an old wives’ tale, sometimes attributed to Stephen King, that in order to become proficient as a writer, you first have to practice, and that usually requires one million words of crap before you finally start getting it right. For me, that turned out to be the case.

Thus, my first question. Are there any deep, dark books that you’ve written? Novels so bad that the pages bleed? (fingers crossed: please say yes, please say yes, please say yes).

Jonathan: Deep and dark would be undue compliments to my early efforts. Shallow and combustible might be more accurate. The weird thing is that I can never really tell at any given stage if my writing is any good. It’s only when I look back that I get a bit of perspective – and often wince. At the time, I thought those first few pages I wrote were going to shake the world with their brilliance. I did allow one or two people to read them and they were disturbingly silent afterwards. Sometimes the silence would be broken by questions like, “Have you thought about becoming an accountant?”

Davis: Oh thank God! Now I don’t have to feel so inferior.

In your bio, you indicate that you originally grew up reading the classics, such as Dickens, Twain, Doyle, Austen, Stevenson, etc. and that you’re original fiction writing was informed in this way. I find that fascinating because while I read many of those authors, I didn’t study their writing. I read a few Jane Austen novels more recently and she’s still brilliantly funny, but those run on sentences! Sheesh! How did puzzling out the classics help with your own writing? Or did it?

Jonathan: Yes, there are some major differences in punctuation and style, which have to be overlooked, and I do share your frustrations but I find the gains are worth it.

I have a long list of things I’ve learned from the classics, but let me just pick out a few. The first would probably be the creative use of words, almost a playfulness. Things are often expressed in unexpected, even adventurous ways that would have taken a lot of thought and that result in a new dimension, a new layer to the reading experience. Another would be the depth of insight into characters’ thoughts, reactions and motivations. The subtle perceptions are often so revealing and so neatly expressed. Next on my list would be the descriptions of scenes. The passages tend to be far longer than most modern readers would tolerate, but the skill shown with the word-brush can still be appreciated. The scene painting is as much about the artistic use of words as about the resulting picture, not unlike poetry. Maybe the last point I would make is the sound. Any good writing can be “sounded”. There’s a rhythm to prose, more subtle than poetry, as well as a musicality – the way the tones interact with each other and with the meaning being conveyed.

It’s not that I don’t think there are modern writers capable of these things, but so many of the classic writers did them well, and they were the ones to lay the foundations of good prose. Learning from them is like learning from the grand masters, the teacher’s teachers.

Davis: That is very interesting. It makes me wish I’d actually taken some formal courses on the study of those authors and how they structured their sentences. I guess there’s no time like the present to learn what I overlooked. Recently, I’ve taken a look at poetic devices to see how I can better incorporate it into my writing.

Jonathan: Actually, that shows. The subtle poetic touches caught my attention within the first few pages of your writing. You are no stranger to the word brush.

Davis: So after figuring out that writing like someone 200 years old might not be the best way to communicate with a modern audience, what did you do in terms of reading? Which of the more recent books made an impact on you? More specifically, which fantasy novels or authors do you enjoy?

Jonathan: My reading diet is rather broad. I try to read things from all ends of the spectrum, from easy action thrillers to the heavy academic works in which nothing happens but in which that nothing is exquisitely presented. My favourite books are the ones where brilliant writing meets a satisfying story.

Some of the more recently-published books I’ve enjoyed have been Chickenhawk (Mason), Shantaram (Roberts), The Abyss (Card), My Sister’s Keeper (Picoult), Words of Radiance (Sanderson), The Husband (Koontz), The Kite Runner (Huseini), Three Men in a Boat (Jerome), The Second Foundation (Asimov), The Testament (Grisham), Life, the Universe and Everything (Adams), The Book Thief (Zusak),The Eagle Has Landed (Higgins), The Caine Mutiny (Woulk).

I have to admit that I’m not actually able to get my hands on much of the fantasy I want to read. Saving up and committing to full time writing have required me to live on a shoestring budget for several years, so most of my reading has had to come from the local libraries, which are kind of thin on fantasy. Gormenghast, for example, has been on my wish list for about five years.

Fantasy authors I enjoy – Sanderson, Pratchett, Rothfuss, Feist, LeGuin, Beagle, Lewis, and Tolkien (if these last two are admissible as modern authors). The fantasy books I’ve most recently read and loved would include both The Stormlight Archive books, The Name of the Wind, The Colour of Magic, and The Last Unicorn.

Davis: That is an eclectic list. I think you’d love Gormenghast. Reading his descriptive prose is a joy in itself.

In terms of your writing schedule, how do you approach your books? Do you have to have the entire plot outlined? The major plot elements outlined? Or just wing it?

Jonathan: I’ve tried both the tightly structured and the no-plan launch. I can’t wing it for long without a plan because the ideas multiply and as I jot them down on bits of paper, phone, hand, whatever is available, I end up with a rough plot. I found the biggest problem with a tight structure is that characters aren’t permitted to surprise me and mess things up, and if they can’t do that, they aren’t real. I think Stephen King makes this point.

For now, I work with a dynamic plan. There is a guideline at the start, but I find that if the structure is rigid and imposes on character choices, the story goes flat very quickly. I like stories that are driven by relationships. That requires real characters that act in ways that are unexpected and even frustrating for a writer who is trying to contain them within a plot. When I allow characters to behave in ways that are true to their natures and make choices that surprise each other and even me, it shifts things around and the plot needs to adapt.

The depth of Aedan’s brokenness is an example. I could have written a much simpler story in which he gains personal confidence from his growing skills and overcomes his internal weakness after a few months, but the more I read on the fight/flight/freeze (and the lesser-known fawn) behaviours from psychologists and war biographers, the more I began to see a kind of trauma that exists on a very deep level that is almost always hidden, even from the individual in question – until some crisis causes it to surface. I hadn’t planned for Aedan to have a crippling weakness. It spoiled my original plot but it was where the character was tugging. Liru is another example. She wasn’t a plotted character. She swept in from nowhere and cleared a large place for herself that resulted in several adaptations. I’m still not sure where her character came from. It just sort of appeared on the page and I decided to let her grow into the story as she seemed to want to do.

So in short, I plot, but in pencil.

Davis: I have a similar writing style, and I am similarly surprised and gratified. There is one character in particular who I absolutely love. He was initially supposed to be an Orc/Redshirt, but he decided to become so much more. It was just one line change in how this character perceived an event, and my entire story was upended. It ended up changing the entire dynamic.

Jonathan: I love that. It’s like these characters stand up from the page, kick the letters aside to make some space, refuse to do as they are told, and then start bossing us around. Those, for me, are the most enjoyable characters to write. The challenge is to then go back and breathe the same kind of life into all the others.

Davis: Now moving on to your book. Dawn of Wonder. How long have you been working on it?

Jonathan: The book itself took close to two years, but I spent about ten years before that building the world with different books that opened at various places on the map, with various characters. I’d get about a hundred pages in and then begin again with another angle, trying to do a better job each time. I also worked on other book ideas in different genres. After a decade of that, I knew where I wanted to start and what kind of story I wanted to write, partly because I had built up such a good sense of what I didn’t want to write.

Davis: It sounds like there’s quite a bit of worldbuilding going on, so hopefully, there are many more stories to come from this world.

Jonathan: I hope so. That’s the thing with fantasy, especially epic. The worlds authors build require so much work that it would be bitter indeed to have to abandon all that after a single book.

Davis: Dawn of Wonder starts out in a place that’s familiar to most fantasy fans. It’s the Shire, or Emond’s Field, or some small rustic village we all secretly wish we could live in. Again, back to your bio, how similar is Aeden’s childhood to what you experienced growing up?

Jonathan: My first home had a lot in common with the Mistyvales, including the mist. It was a place of farms, forests, grassy hills and a view of the mountains when the air was clear. I’d considered starting the story elsewhere, like in a city, because I knew some would call the countryside a fantasy trope, but I simply couldn’t start anywhere else. The Mistyvales was in my dreams long before I’d even heard of epic fantasy. It wasn’t just a place, it was a character that spoke into the relationships seen early on, much as my first home did for me. There’s a great deal I love about cities, but the Mistyvales is what my blood knows as home. The same, incidentally, can be said of the academy. Trope or not, I couldn’t keep it out of the story. Universities are special places to me, not just for the knowledge they contain, but also because of all the fascinating corridors, galleries and storage rooms that you aren’t supposed to explore. We were forever discovering security entrances that had been left unlocked … Perhaps I should stop here.

Davis: The characters you created are for the most part treated with great sympathy. Even Aeden’s father is given moments to reveal something other than the beast. You show the reality of the world, the gutter politics, the conniving, the deadly street gangs, and yet Aeden and those who know him maintain a moral core. Given the popular trend in fantasy toward gray heroes or even anti-heroes, was this a conscious decision? And, if so, why choose this route?

Jonathan: It’s true that Aedan and his friends are seen as having a moral core (though there are some fairly serious vices exhibited among them – kleptomania, racism, cruelty …). It wasn’t so much a decision on what kind of person I wanted to represent as what point of view I chose to use. You’ll know how a limited third person perspective is similar in many ways to the outlook of a first person. The way Aedan is seen is largely the way he sees himself. I thought the kind of boy I was writing about would most naturally think of himself as trying to do the right thing. In reality, his choices are not always morally right, but he would have given little weight to this, and the narrative perspective reflects that.

As to his friends, I don’t think that as a teenage boy he would be most likely to see his companions in sophisticated greys but rather in simple black and white – friend/likeable, enemy/unlikeable. He would also naturally give more emphasis to the good qualities in his friends and overlook their vices.

The same story told from Malik’s side would probably also be morally polarised, but the groupings would be different and the events interpreted from an entirely reversed perspective. Malik would be seen as troubled yet fundamentally good, and his flaws would be justified. Aedan’s virtues would be ignored and his character cast in the deepest suspicion using all the same plot elements in the existing story. Malik genuinely does think Aedan played him false at the festival and sees himself as the injured party.

I don’t mind the grey trend, but I don’t feel it should be used exclusively or by default. I’ve read writing coaches who say that people aren’t black and white, but grey, so they should be depicted as such. But what’s missing from that reasoning is not everyone sees people as grey. That really needs to be taken into account once the point of view has been chosen. My ten cents on the matter is that writers need to set aside the fact that they know people are grey in order to ask, “Does my POV allow me to use that knowledge?”, and if using a limited perspective, “Does my POV character look at people that way?”

Davis: That, too, is an interesting approach and makes me wonder what you have planned for the later books.

Jonathan: As the POV character matures and becomes more perceptive, the slider will shift, but the shifts will be subtle.

Davis: There was a scene early on where Allisian, the dark-haired, beautiful princess notices Aeden and his friends. Does she play a further role in the later books—I have my fears about her? What about Thomas and some of Aeden’s friends from up north?

Jonathan: Allisian is definitely going to be back. To some extent she is someone to be feared, but also someone to be feared for. There are treasonous words being spoken in the palace and the walls that keep people out can also keep people in.

Regarding the north, it’s not just the friends, it’s the whole of the north. In time the story will be going back to the Mistyvales. Those friends are not forgotten.

Davis: Glad to hear it!

There was a vivid scene following a lightning strike that I absolutely loved. And there were also some animals that were changed by the lightning strike. Where did that idea come from? When I read those scenes and descriptions, I kept picturing God and Adam from the Sistine Chapel and also the Nephilim.

Jonathan: The heart of this book was born from my faith, so yes, your reference to Michelangelo’s painting is appropriate. The encounter depicted there is similar to what was in my mind. I think God reaches down to people mostly in very quiet ways – a whisper in the soul – and very occasionally in a way like in that scene.

The animals – museums! I can still see those great beasts that awed me into silence as a five year old. The wonder that flooded me in museums never really left me.

Davis: You’ve mentioned that the tension gets ratcheted up even further with book 2? Any hints on what we can expect? I’m dying here, so even a blurb would be fine. When do you expect to have it out?

Jonathan:  At the latest, a year between books, but if I can, I’ll get it out sooner. I’m certainly trying for sooner.

Ahh … I am so useless with hints and blurbs. It takes me forever to put together a spoiler-free anything. Well, the first book was largely about getting to know the characters and what they are capable of. In the second book, they need to actually use all the things they have been taught, and even the tiniest details of their training are going to be crucial. Book two is fast from the start and tense to the end. In the first book they spent a lot of time growing their skills at the academy. There’s no such hanging around any spot for any length of time in the second book. The Lekran Isles are too unsafe. The stakes are colossal, the time short, and the danger constant. And remember that ship being rebuilt beneath the academy? That scene wasn’t just for decoration – there’s something very important there. This whole paragraph probably sucks in the way of hints, but you were warned.

Davis: Arghhh! I hate waiting. Unless I’m the one doing the writing, and then it’s ok.

You’ve had an eclectic life in terms of your job. You’ve been deeply involved in music, and Jacob Cooper has a similar background, so I’ll ask you the same as I asked him. Why do you suppose there seems to be such a strong connection between music and writing?

Jonathan:  Maybe it’s because neither group wants to do any real work so they switch between these so called careers when the fancy strikes. Did you want a serious answer?

I’m not sure that being a musician indicates any gifting as a writer, but it does give you a lot of experience in how to work up a shoddy piece into a better one. Working with melodies is a lot like working with sentences. Tweaking the notes involves parallel processes of creative inspiration and critical evaluation. I imagine it’s the same across the arts. Maybe developing the type of concentration needed for this in one art form opens the door into another. One thing most musos know how to do is edit, and as Harry Shaw famously said, “There is no such thing as good writing, only good rewriting.”

I suppose the kind of brain process used to invent a melody could be related to that used to invent a story. Years ago I read a bit on the psychology of music – how music interacts with the emotions and so on. The explanations given were quite speculative but the observations were interesting and got me thinking about how there is possibly more direct intention behind the resulting emotional prompting of a tune than we realise. While any art form is emotionally engaging, music and stories would have to be two of the front runners in that department. Having an instinctive or learned feel for guiding emotions would possibly be useful for someone making the move from music to writing.

Davis: I’d never heard that quote from Harry Shaw, but I love it! A blank page can’t be edited is another one I like.

Jonathan: That’s great. I’d add to that – an unedited page can’t be read. To anyone out there holding onto the myth that there is something special in the first draft: the only thing special in a first draft is its potential. The one thing that all first drafts have in common is that they suck. Well at least all mine do. Davis, I certainly hope you are going to second me on this.

Davis: What kind of music or artists do you like to listen to when writing?

Jonathan: Having spent years working in the music world, my ears tend to get snagged on passing notes and that breaks my concentration. I’m thinking on so many levels when I write that I need every available nanowatt of brainpower. Birdsong drifting through the window is generally the limit for me.

Davis: So no AC/DC?  For me, it’s different. I can work in quiet or with music, but I can’t work with people talking around me. I’m too much a people watcher and terrible about listening in on the conversations of others. So I use music as white noise to shut out the world and the voices in my head. I kid. Mostly.

Jonathan: Actually I can relate. I did once use music to shut out a conversation two dogs were having outside the window. Reminded me a little of the way we sometimes argue as people, each party constantly making the same point over and over and neither listening to a word from the other. It wasn’t the best writing day.

Davis: You’ve taught English but are also proficient in woodworking. What kind of woodworking do you do? Cabinet building? Framing? Or fine arts, like marquetry? What’s your favorite wood to work?

Jonathan: Proficient you say? Hate to disagree with a compliment, but my woodwork is firmly on the rough side. My father got me going by building treehouses (high) and since then I’ve built a balcony, cupboards, a desk and various things for recording studios. The fun part of woodwork is making bows, atlatls, that kind of thing. If it’s at least slightly dangerous then it’s far more interesting. Here’s a link to a short vid of the bow made in the book. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DkZy_...

I enjoy fir, maple and pine the most because they smell so good. That’s a terrible reason and all carpenters who read this will just have rolled their eyes. I worked with something that must have been stinkwood once. I shall not work with it again. Most of the great carpentry woods are out of my budget and anyway they’d be wasted on me. My carpentry is quick and functional. No fine arts or marquetry, whatever the heck that is. Okay, I just looked it up. Definitely no marquetry.

Davis: Marquetry is challenging. I haven’t tried it yet, but I love working with wood. I like measuring it, shaping it, smelling it, cutting it. The best wood I worked with was mahogany when I made a coffee table and a filing cabinet. If anyone reading this is interested, I can take some pictures sometime. I’d love to have the time to do more woodworking. If I can squeeze out a few moments, I’m building a grandfather clock out of some cherry and maple I have saved up.

Jonathan: Wow! That sounds impressive. I hope you intend to post pictures.

And finally, the most important question, which challenges your knowledge of simple physics and biology. Who would win in a fight between Superman and Batman?

Jonathan: From physics, Superman. From biology, Superman. It’s like putting Inspector Gadget up against the Hulk.

It eats me, though, because anyone who floats around in public wearing his bright red undies on the outside needs to have his bright red butt kicked. As long as Batman reinforces his toe caps with kryptonite, I’m gonna be rooting for him regardless of the odds. The other thing which weighs heavily against Superman is that he has no toys. And then just look at all those bat gadgets. He who has the most toys should win. It’s only fair.

Davis: As usual, another interesting answer. Thank you Jonathan for spending some time here in my little corner of the web!

Jonathan:  My pleasure. It’s a very friendly corner. Thanks so much for having me over.

Sometimes you read things in novels that you know are just impossible, especially when you have some experience in that field. Running into something like that make it a lot more difficult to lose yourself in the story. After completing the chapter on Torval’s bow (the bow made in a day with only a hunting knife), I wondered if I had just delivered a few thousand words of nonsense. I’d made bows and strings from natural materials before, but always using a range of tools. So I decided to put the tools aside and try out the technique.