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Hey there everyone!

Just to keep you all in the loop, I got a new job recently.

A lot is going through my head about this job. It’s part time work at a library, very neurodivergent friendly, and my supervisor seems incredibly kind, patient, and supportive. I haven’t been out of the apartment in any regular capacity since before the Pandemic; at least 2017, probably earlier if we’re talking daily work. That’s over eight years of isolationist habit I’m working against, and a lot of social fear that I’m coming to terms with.

Words are powerful things.

One of the greatest lies in modern discourse is the suggestion that words are somehow less significant or “real” than physical action. “Sticks and Stones,” after all. A politician who says all the right things is branded an empty suit if their actions are not measured in kind.

But words control us in marked and unavoidable ways. There are words that we feel bad for saying, or uncomfortable even thinking. F-words can be censored for all audiences, but the N-word is something far more powerful. Even the idea of saying it is disquieting for most people. It certainly is for me.

That’s right, I’m going to design my own RPG.

It’s going to be a process, and certainly take more time to consider all the various issues that crop up. As such, I will be moving the design posts to Saturdays. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I will begin posting another writing project, Noriama.

As with most of my stories, the idea that struck me first was a retelling, in this case a futuristic look at the vanishing Roanoke colony. What if the first human colony in space suddenly vanished? I had considered putting the colony on Ganymede or Io or some easy in-system rock, but the more research I did, the more I realized that, if we were a rational species, we wouldn’t bother with building an inter-system colony that used people.

Hey folks.

I am heading out of town next week to a place with no cell/internet service, so I will not be posting. Regular posts will continue next Tuesday.

See you then!

A month and some change later, and I’m back.

Am I ready to be back? That’s a different question. I have pondered the idea of extending my hiatus, but that way lies inertia, and I have enough issues with that these days, thank-you-very-much.

So every concern must be dismissed. My buffer is still unsatisfactory…but what would be enough? Noriama still little better than a second draft? Let it be seen anyway, warts and all. Celestial not even half finished? Slow down your posting schedule. Nothing I write is good enough? It never will be, no matter how long you delay. Your ashcan RPG currently stalled out because you need playtesters, and scheduling is a problem? Post it anyway, perfection be damned!

I swear I didn’t plan it this way.

I wouldn’t have if I could have; I’m put now in a somewhat difficult position of wrapping up both The Poems of Madam Albithurst and The Watch in the Sand in one post. I’d rather do it over two, but time and tide wait for no one; So…

The Poems of Madam Albithurst

Did my experiment work? It’s obviously not my place to say. There is a delight I’ve found in the bizarre and otherworldly tone of the Myriad Worlds, where the people and customs are as clear and distinct as our own, if decidedly unfamiliar. I am currently working on a guidebook to the entire Velvet, and that might not have happened without this experimental work.

Due to a brief jaunt to Ohio to view the Eclipse, there will be no post on Monday.

Instead, there will be a double-post on Wednesday! Thank you for your patience, and I’ll see you then!

The End

Did I succeed in my efforts with The Raiselig Dossier? An interesting question to think about, for me. A lot of my intent was to play around in a world, to take a specific “what if” and drag it to its logical conclusion. What would a magical fantasy world be like, if magic were legislated to near extinction?

Because that’s what became obvious, as I wrote. More and more the magical beings and spells of the ancient times faded away, not because “the world has moved on,” but because the laws of magic themselves became too onerous. Try as you might, there comes a time when even the most zealous among us must rest, and as more and more beings grow weary of their burdens…

For the first half¹ of my creative career, I was an actor. Still am, in some ways, and a great deal of my writing has the stain of performative dialogue.

What I mean by that is: a lot of my writing comes out on the page sans the tone or emphasis that it has in my head.

Sometimes this a wonderful thing. Good writers can convey the sound of their characters’ voices with just words on the page, while bad writers…well, compare any transcript of a Donald Trump monologue to its recording,² and see how much information is lost without the pauses, the emphasis, the pitch of voice…

The End

The Macabre Tale of Edmund Moulde took me more than a decade to write, and I still can’t honestly say “I’m done.” Art is never finished, only abandoned, and I could continue to tinker with this and that for decades more.

I certainly can’t say it’s polished. Only the first book really reached that level of “completeness” for me, I’d still call the last three “second drafts” at best.