My Unfinished “Epic” Poem . . .

For lack of a better title, it’s called “The Sorceror’s Apprentice” but since I started writing it two years ago I think I should come up with something more original. I hope you enjoy.

~~~~~

Part I

A winding road, a rainy night, a trip I’d thought benign
Until a strike of lightning felled a tree into my path
A swerve cast me into the ditch, two flats served as a sign
That I must soon find shelter from the storm’s increasing wrath

No cell service to be had, my eyes searched through the darkness.
Not a sign of life around, so uphill I proceeded
‘Til I saw a speck of light, a hope that I could harness,
Quickening my heart (and pace); a shelter sorely needed!

Soggy, tired, my vision poor from all the rain descending
I finally arrived upon a rusted iron gate
Woven in a tapestry whose vines seemed neverending
Then, before my eyes they parted and opened the estate.

Wary of such strange goings-on, yet earnest for the light
Of house above I set one timid foot inside the yard,
Then followed with my other, ’til at last I was alight
Upon the gray and crumbling steps, proceeding now on guard.

Pausing once to look behind, I could not find the entrance
Where I’d ventured through the gate and vines so damned unsightly.
Shivers wracked me as I walked the stairs with some reluctance
Surely it’s a trick of light, I thought, and trembled lightly.

Faster steps propelled me to the threshold of this mansion
Where finally I steeled my will and rapped the knocker twice–
The door creaked open on its own (adding to my tension)
“Hello?” I called, to no avail, my wet clothes cold as ice.

A dim light in the room beyond the foyer told of warmth,
I wiped my feet and bravely ventured forth to dry myself
Discovering the lighted room was something so much more,
A library with blazing hearth, and books lined shelf to shelf.

Its floor a sea of waving green and blue, like it was grass,
With sconces on the walls that seemed to nothing mount upon
Burning white and bluish flames not held by any glass
And not casting a single shadow. What was going on?

Between the sconces on the walls were oils of awkward scenes
Of dragons fighting creatures I had never seen before,
Of fairytales and history, and something in between,
An unease settled over me. I turned back to the door

When, “Ah,” said a voice behind, “you note my eldritch hobby.”
I spun around to face a man I’d only seen in dreams,
“You’re soaking wet, my boy. Could’ve dried off in the lobby.
But never mind.” His grey eyes blued! “Let water fly to streams”

With one snap of his fingers all my clothes were dry and pressed
As if I’d never been inundated in the deluge
His steel eyes danced with firelight, he could see I was impressed
And curious; more so as he professed his subterfuge:

“I know you’re a stubborn man who would not come if beckoned,
So I caused the tree to fall, your journey redirected
To my home. And now, your future changes every second.
To explain will take a while, your training’s been neglected.”

A Money Question

I like to think that I support my favorite authors, as well as my local bookstores.  I’m constantly recommending authors and books in practically every other conversation that I have.  I recommend to friends that they go here or there, buy this historical book or that novel . . .but in all honesty I should admit that I’m a very frugal man.  (translation=cheap bastard)

I like to pimp the fact that Abebooks is an excellent resource for obtaining out of print books or inexpensive used copies.  I’ve also extolled the virtues of the FirstLookBook program from Harper Collins, both here and elsewhere, that lets lucky readers obtain free galley copies of soon-to-be-released novels for review.

However I wonder if I’m being entirely fair to the authors by letting out all of my cheap/free-book secrets.  Take, for example, my latest acquisition from QPB, one of the book clubs that I belong to.  I recently obtained a spanking new copy of Dan Simmons’ The Terror for $13.00.  It’s a large paperback version-hardcover sized, really–and, granted, I could’ve gotten a “used” hardcover copy for under $10 on Abebooks–but still it’s much cheaper than the usual hardcover price. 

I also have managed to recently acquire the first six novels of The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher, in three hardbound editions, for $18.50.  They should have run me a great deal more. 

I make no secret of the fact that I also visit numerous local bookstores looking for used copies of novels, etc–often paying at little as 50 cents each for like-new paperbacks.  (I’m just not paying full price for Star Trek paperbacks.)  Granted, given the number of books I consume I could never afford to buy them all at list price, but still I’m faced with this quandry: is buying used or discounted books unfair to the author or is it just being Pennywise?

DoorQ

Let me help (yeah, right, I get 20o visits on a good day and found this on a megablog) announce a new website: DoorQ.  (Pronounced “dork”)–the new website/blog aims to dedicate itself to gay scifi/horror/fantasy. 

As a writer of the “always a bridesmaid, never published” type, I have to admit this new site has me intrigued and a bit excited.  After all, I’ve always had a soft spot for Yaoi.  Maybe soft isn’t the right word . . .

(h/t Queersighted)

P.S.  Chad Allen is listed as an advisor.  Don’t know what to make of that, really. 

I Love This Stuff

Best Horror Videogame Series Of All Time.  And I like the movies too.  Sue me. 

I am SO looking forward to this–maybe I’ll go see it when I’m in Sterling, VA on the 24th, all by myself.  Is there a safe movie theatre around there? 

Prayers To Broken Stones

It could easily be said that I fawn over Dan Simmons.  Or at least over his writing.  Hyperion remains my favorite Sci-fi novel of all time, followed closely by Fall of Hyperion.  My review of Illium was quoted in my book club’s monthy catalog (whoop-te-do), and I was nearly apopleptic with glee when, thanks to the HarperCollins Firstlook program, I received a galley copy of Olympos almost two months before publication.  My enthusiasm even prompted me to pimp the reprints of two of Dan’s horror novels in recent months. 

What can I say?  Our man Dan can write. 

Hyperion was my first contact with Dan Simmons’ writings, a book I actually chose at random in the bookstore because it said “Hugo Award Winner” on the cover–of all the stupid reasons to buy a book, it was the damned cover, tsk tsk–and said book would become my ticket to ride a wave of great literature from a surprisingly talented author.  Accordingly, thanks to a touch of OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder), I strove to find, purchase, and ultimately secure among my private stacks every published novel or anthology with Simmons’ writings in them.  I tend to do this with authors I like–seek out and gather those rosebuds while I may–and eventually I read them all.  Hey, one day I’ll be an old man and won’t be able to go shopping anymore.  So I need to have those piles of books ready way beforehand.  (Chuckle)  Some of these have been hard to find, some not-so-much, and some purchased twice because, well, not to be a princess or anything, but I like nice things.  And dog-eared copies of my favorite books simply won’t do. 

One anthology that has been particularly difficult to find is called “Prayers to Broken Stones.”  While I’m sure I could have found a dog-eared copy on Abebooks, I tend to only resort to non-local dealers as a last resort–I steadfastly support my local booksellers and they help me find great stuff.  Luckily it was at one of those local stores, The Eloquent Page*, that I found a copy.  ”Prayers to Broken Stones” contains not only the original short stories that would later become the novels Hyperion and Carrion Comfort, it contains many other little gems, including his first story ever published, and the story of how Dan was “discovered” by none other than Harlen Ellison. 

In the introduction to “Prayers to Broken Stones,” Ellison tells of a workshop where he discovered Dan, and I don’t wish to ruin it here.  The intro is immediately followed by Dan’s first “published” short story, the one from that very workshop, “The River Styx Runs Upstream.”  The tale of the writers’ workshop, as well as the short story itself, is something that any Simmons fan will be glad to discover.  And the confirmation by Ellison that Simmons could perhaps be “the bard” of our times, as I’ve often told many associates who roll their eyes at me, is one I’ll treasure for a long time to come.  I find it inspiring, as I try to wind my way through the 2nd draft of my own first novel, that both Ellison and Simmons have the same take on writing–you don’t have to be a “horror” writer or a “sci-fi” writer or “insert genre here” writer.  Don’t let the pedants shove you into a niche, just write. 

That gives me hope.  And makes “Prayers to Broken Stones” another “must have” for my personal library. 

One last thing: if you’re a fan of Hyperion or Endymion, there’s also an interesting little story involving Wizards, the Shrike, and farcasters called “Death of the Centaur” that you might find intriguing. 

Let me know what you think!

*Interesting (to me) footnote: The Eloquent Page is also the name of the bookstore run by Rogatien Remillard (Uncle Rogi) in the Julian May series The Galacic Milieu.  The proprietor of this local store in real life was completely unaware of the association with May’s characters or the fictional bookstore, but I have to say that except for the lack of one Marcel the Cat, and a female proprietor instead of an old but constantly rejuvenating metapsychic man, the resemblance is uncanny.