Guest Post
The Writer's Mind
One of the most common questions you hear
asked of authors is 'where do your ideas come from?' If you read a few
interviews, you'll find a wide variety of answers, many of which are
pre-formulated to evoke laughter or feelings of inadequacy. Part of the problem
with the question, I think, is that so much time has often passed since the
author had the idea for the book, he or she likely doesn't even recall the
impetus for the novel.
In the case of my upcoming book, When
Shadows Fall, it has only been a couple of months since I began work on the
project, so perhaps I can give you a tour of the writer's mind (please tread
carefully...there's a lot of darkness and it's a bit messy).
I had finished writing the third book in my
Icarus Fell urban fantasy series and began work on another project which, I'm
sorry to say, didn't go so well. It did, however, put me in the mood to write
epic fantasy; it had been nearly six months since I completed the Khirro's
Journey trilogy, so it was time.
Step one to story idea: choose your genre (or sub-genre).
Once I've settled on what kind of story I want
to write, I try to think of a ways to make it a little bit different from the
norm. In the Khirro's
Journey trilogy, I chose a non-traditional protagonist. For this series, I
decided to have a prophecy discovered on an ancient scroll. Not so different,
you say? How about a little confusion as to who the prophecy refers to, both on
the good side and the evil side? I'm interested.
Step two to story idea: think of a
twist.
The third thing that came to me as I
ponderied the nature of this prophecy was the term 'Small Gods', which then
became the title for the series. Something about it captured my attention,
possibly because when we think about gods, we don't think of small things, but
big, all-powerful beings. This prompted me to sit down and really think about
the Small Gods, their role in the story, and other details about my world in
general.
Step three to story idea: build your
world.
As the world came together, more characters
and story ideas came to light. I started thinking about having two groups known
as Small Gods to throw more uncertainty into the prophecy. When I began digging
into the religion, which I decided to be Goddess-based, I wondered what it
would look like if the devotees of the religion were all women. What would
happen to the men? What if a sect of men broke off and were secretly in
opposition to the women? The more I thought, the more possibilities screamed at
me to get writing.
Step
four to story idea: imagine the possibilities.
The last thing I decided on—which is
something I hope most authors do when they set out to write a new book—was to
challenge myself. Not only does When Shadows Fall follow four different
story lines, but I was determined to make the voice of each different and
distinct. But it gets worse...in the second book, which I am currently writing
and expecting to be ready for a Dec. 1 release, I am writing one story line
from the POV of a blind character—no description based on sight—and another
from the POV of a character who doesn't speak the same language as any of the
other characters. Fun stuff.
Step five to story idea: challenge yourself.
So there you have it...where a story idea
comes from, at least in the case of When Shadows Fall. For me, it is
rarely in a dream or a flash of light, fully-formed and ready to put pen to
paper—it's work. Not as glamourous as thinking a muse sits on my shoulder and
whispers, but it gets the job done.
Blurb
A hundred seasons have turned since the Goddess banished the Small Gods to the sky,
leaving the land to mankind alone.
For Prince Teryk,
life behind the castle walls is boring and uneventful until he stumbles upon an
arcane scroll in a long-forgotten chamber. The parchment speaks of Small Gods,
the fall of man, and the kingdom's savior—the firstborn child of the
rightful king. It's his opportunity to prove himself to his father, the
king, and assure his place in history. All he needs to do is find the man from
across the sea—a man who can't possibly exist—and save mankind.
But ancient magic
has been put in motion by a mysterious cult determined to see the Small Gods
reborn. Powerful forces clash, uncaring for the lives of mortals in their
struggle to prevent the return of the banished ones, or aid in their rebirth.
Named in a
prophecy or not, what chance does a cocky prince who barely understands the
task laid before him stand in a battle with the gods?
About the Author
Biography
Bruce Blake lives
on Vancouver Island in British Columbia, Canada. When pressing issues like
shovelling snow and building igloos don't take up his spare time, Bruce can be
found taking the dog sled to the nearest coffee shop to work on his short stories
and novels.
Actually,
Victoria, B.C. is only a couple hours north of Seattle, Wash., where more rain
is seen than snow, and the dog is too small to pull a sled. Since snow isn't
really a pressing issue, Bruce spends more time trying to remember to leave the
"u" out of words like "colour" and "neighbour"
then he does shovelling (and darn those double l's). The father of two, Bruce
is also the trophy husband of a burlesque diva.
Bruce has been
writing since grade school but it wasn't until a few years ago he set his
sights on becoming a full-time writer. Since then, his first short story,
"Another Man's Shoes" was published in the Winter 2008 edition of Cemetery
Moon, another short, "Yardwork", was made into a podcast in Oct.,
2011 by Pseudopod and his first Icarus Fell novel, On Unfaithful
Wings, was published to Kindle in Dec., 2011. The second Icarus Fell novel,
All Who Wander Are Lost, was released in July, 2012, and the third, Secrets
of the Hanged Man, in July 2013. Sept., 2013 saw the publication of
Blood of the King, the first book in the Khirro's Journey epic
fantasy trilogy, followed by second book, Spirit of the King, in Dec.,
2012, and the third, Heart of the King in Jan., 2013. He has plans for
more Icarus novels, several stand alones, and several more books in the Small
Gods series.
From the Prologue
of WHEN SHADOWS FALL
“Give it to me, Vesi.” She held out
her hand, expectant. “We must speak the words to prevent this from happening
again.”
Her fingers brushed the edge of the
paper, felt its roughness, its power, but then it disappeared. Ine’vesi pulled
it away and glared at her, his brows drawn together.
“Prevent it?” he asked, incredulous.
The priest shook his head without removing his gaze from her eyes. “We must
take this to Teva Stavoklis and leave instructions on how to bring us back.”
Rak’bana’s mouth fell open. How did
she not see this coming? She’d heard his words bordering on sacrilege, seen his
disdain toward the Goddess in this time of judgment. But her sight had been
clouded by the dreams, her mind filled with visions of the gray man, the
Mother, the man from across the sea. She’d neglected to think for a moment that
her twin brother—the man with whom she shared the priesthood and trusted more
than anyone short of the Goddess herself—could have anything but the same goal
as her.
How wrong she’d been.
“We can’t let this happen again,
Vesi.” She despised the desperation creeping into her voice. “The generations
that come after us must know.”
Another rumble echoed through the
chamber, this one louder than the last. Ine’vesi sneered. “We are in agreement,
sister. This cannot happen again. The Goddess cannot be allowed to treat her
loyal subjects in this manner. They must be given a way to prevent it, and
bringing us back is the way.”
“No. We deserve it. The Goddess never
intended us to live this way. We--”
The priest took a step back and her
gaze fell to the parchment he held in his right hand, out of her reach. The
visions that visited her dreams meant nothing if she did not set them to words
on the scroll, left them to be found when the time they were needed came. If
she didn’t, she’d have failed the Goddess.
“The scroll will go to Teva
Stavoklis, to be used when the Goddess again over-steps her bounds. To ensure
her subjects are never again punished for being human.”
Rak’bana narrowed her eyes. “We are
no longer human, Vesi.”
“No, I suppose not,” he conceded and
took another step back. “We are closer to gods, aren’t we? Small gods,
perhaps.”
She bit down hard and fought against
the oncoming tears choking her throat. A louder rumble, and this time the walls
trembled. The long pike of one of the Sek’bala warriors shivered in its hand,
the metal shaft rattling against its gauntleted fingers. Rak’bana directed her
gaze toward the massive suit of plate, lowered her chin and raised her hand.
She wiggled her fingers the way she did when she called the water to her
bidding and her brother realized her intent. Ine’vesi’s head snapped to the
side, eyes wide as he looked to the Sek’bala, expecting it to come to life.
Rak’bana leaped toward him and
snatched at the roll of parchment, her fingers grasping the edge. It took only
an instant for Ine’vesi to realize she’d tricked him. The priest danced back
two steps, but she’d gotten a grip on the scroll and it unrolled between them.
They both stared at its blank surface as another ball of fire struck the
building and a shower of sparks spilled through one of the high windows.
They raised their heads; their eyes
met.
“Bana,” he said, voice calm and even,
though his eyes reflected different emotions. “Don’t do--”
“When days of peace approach their
end.”
“Rak’bana.”
“And wounds inflicted are too deep
to mend.” Fear and disappointment surged through her, but she forced
herself to speak clearly, drawing out the words to their full power, ensuring
the parchment heard her over the reverberating impacts shuddering the walls. “A
sign shall come, a lock with no key.”
“Stop, Bana!”
“Borne by a man from across the
sea.”
The wavering light of the flames
licking the world flashed on Ine’vesi’s blade. Rak’bana had an instant to
recognize the slender knife before he jerked her toward him and plunged the tip
between her ribs.
The wicked point tore through her
flesh, found its way between the bones, and pressed against her heart. The
agony of the wound stole her breath, but the anguish of her brother’s betrayal
crushed her soul. He pulled her close, the loose parchment folding between
them, and a fresh wave of pain crashed through her, transported along her veins
to the tips of her fingers.
“I am sorry, Bana, but it must be
this way” he said, his tone quiet amongst the thunder of the Goddess’ judgment.
“We are gods.”
Bruce Blake
Goodreads HTML:
