2009.09.04
Posted in Board Games, Friends, Parties, Writing at 8:38 pm by Jeremiah Wittevrongel
As most of you probably know, I have had a very busy summer. Lots of traveling, lots of time with friends and outdoors, and working 2 jobs has kept me off the blogosphere for the most part. Now things are settling down and I’m embarking on some autumn projects, new and old. I’m also trying out some new things and challenging myself.
First up is my Halloween costume. I have some lofty ideas and I’m not sure how (or if) it will all turn out. I may have to revise my budget somewhat. Without being too specific, it involves my largest Photoshop document ever (36″ by 80″ when printed) which is a challenge in and of itself. Once that’s done and printed, I have to build and buy the remainder of the costume. This will involve at least one trip to Home Depot, one to Cat’s Eye, and quite possibly some time with the sewing machine. So far it’s a fun project. I’m really excited to see how it comes together.
Next up are some writing projects. I posted a short story last month in the form of a letter, and I’ll probably get around to recording the audio version of it later this fall. I haven’t done much with my audio gear in a while, and I’m getting excitied to do more work now that I can do it on the laptop as well as my main computer. Recording will be easier since I can be more portable.
The other writing project I have on the go is an RPG scenario for Call of Cthulhu. I have a lot of notes already written, and I’m going to give some new writing software a try. The software is called Scrivener, and so far I like it. It works well with my existing writing workflow in MindManager and I like the ability to work with my research materials alongside my own text within the same application. I think I’m going to wind up purchasing it – the RPG scenario is a test to see how it goes. The free trial is very generous (30 days of actual use, not consecutive days) so I’ll be able to know for sure that i like the software before I buy it. Very unusual, and very cool.
Beyond these projects, who knows. I’ve got lots of ideas.
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2009.08.06
Posted in Short Stories, Writing at 9:37 pm by Jeremiah Wittevrongel
My dearest son,
I remember. All the mystery, all the awful truths. I remember. Today would have been your 30th birthday. For the past five years I’ve spent this day crying and refusing to leave the house. I need to let go, even though I don’t want to. I can never forget, but I can try to end the suffering.
I remember 30 years ago the world was bright and full of promise. We lived together the three of us. It was a small home. But it was ours. Our place, our life. The spark that started things when your father and I were 17 continued on, and we made our way in the world. You were our shining star, and the spitting image of your father from the day you were born. When you were with him, a fierce pride shone on his face, and he would have done anything you asked. You know the truth now, and I’m sorry I lied to you. I had to lie to you because I lied to myself.
I remember that day in third grade. You got in a fight with another kid who was teasing you about not having a father. You came home crying, and we ate cookies and drank milk and talked about it. I don’t know if you understood then, but I told you it was OK to miss him. I hope it’s OK, because I never stopped missing either of you. I desperately needed to believe that. And still do. Your father was a good and decent man. You were a good and decent man. Even then, after the fight, he would have been proud of you. I was. You were so like your father then.
I remember when I went on vacation with your aunt twelve years ago. You were working at a summer job, saving for University. You were so like your father then. I came home and you had cleaned out the storage room in the basement as a surprise for me. All the dust was gone and everything was neat and tidy. I’m not sure if you saw the fear in my eyes when I noticed the box. I should have thrown it away, burned it, destroyed it utterly. It was all I kept, all I had left of your father.
The box was unsealed.
I remember the look on your face. You knew I had lied, and you seemed sad instead of angry. Of course, we never spoke of it then. Or since. We just went on like nothing was wrong. Like nothing had changed. You were so like your father then.
I remember when I got the call, how numb I felt. You never returned from that hiking trip, and they never found what was left. Because they didn’t know what to look for. I knew then that even in death, you were so like your father. What brought you there to him? To the place he went? And what happened there? I needed answers, and so a year ago, on your birthday, I found out.
I remember when I got to that place in the shadow of the mountain. I knew the trail as if by instinct, although I spent my whole life avoiding it. As the hike wound on, I felt a mix of both anticipation and calm. Like I was going home for the first time in years. At last I arrived at that stand of aspen, arrived at the truth. You and your father, dancing in the wind, calling to me.
Join with us.
I remember laying hands on you and your father. All at once I saw everything. The same story repeated two decades apart. The same passions, the same fierce determination, the same fate. It was painful and beautiful and violent and powerful and so agonizing for me. You were so like your father as you were transformed.
I remember the others calling to me also, the way they must have called to you. You were both always searching for something, and you both found it. Having looked upon your faces in life I could not bear to look upon them now. At once beautiful and grotesque, I knew then that I could not join you. That fate was yours alone, not mine to share.
I remember the anger as I turned to leave. I was angry at you, and you were angry at me. Part of me died that day and stayed with you, but you wanted more than I could give. We all knew I would never come back. And even if you could read this letter, you would still not understand. You are so like your father that way.
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2008.11.23
Posted in Travel, Writing at 8:45 pm by Jeremiah Wittevrongel
As I was coming home from a trip to Banff today, I noticed a patch of snow on a hillside that hadn’t melted even though all of the snow around it had. The way the hill is situated, that patch of snow is nearly always in full shade during the winter.
And if the snow doesn’t melt in the shadow of the mountain, what other things might lurk there? Maybe some ancient evil remains. Maybe a trio of backpackers has some sort of encounter on the mountain.
I feel a story coming on.
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2008.09.21
Posted in Politics, Writing at 3:24 pm by Jeremiah Wittevrongel
A while back, I had a discussion with my family around the following question: If you could master any one skill or ability in order to make the largest possible impact on the world, what would it be?
We discussed politics and diplomacy as an avenue to making a lasting impact. We talked about the importance of scientific research. We pondered the role of the artist. We considered the power held by journalism through large news/media organizations. But in the end, for me, it boiled down to the ability to write and / or speak with absolute command of the language.
When I consider all of the various things that inform my world view, everything else pales in comparison to the written word. From where I’m sitting right now, I can glance over shelves of books, both fiction and non-fiction, which form a part of who I am and how I view the world.
Writing and the use of language exerts power in many other realms, including politics and journalism, but when I think of writing, I think more of the authors who managed to change the world through fiction. Authors like Arthur Miller. And like Bruce Sterling. Sterling’s recent AGDC Keynote speech is a perfect example of how command of the language is.
Several comments on his speech deride Sterling for not being part of the gaming industry; while this is true, he had some very important things to say, and he managed to do so in a powerful fashion through the use of metaphor.
Another reason for picking command of language as my #1 world-changing ability is the permanence and prevalence of the written word. Text is a very compact form for conveying information (much more so than a medium like video or audio), and text never dies. The words I’m writing now will likely never vanish thanks to the wonders of the web, and so long as people can understand written English circa 2008, their meaning will never be lost. And they can be searched, sliced, and diced much more easily than images can.
Words also have a peculiar power in a cultural context. Nearly all of modern society is informed by myths and stories. In the past, before humanity developed written language, traditions and stories were passed orally, and today, we also employ the written word. Language is at the very core of what it means to be human, and words still shape and change our culture today.
Ironically, this brief essay is perhaps the antithesis of what it describes. I do not pretend to possess the level of lingusitic command I aspire to. But I can learn and practice and improve over time. Maybe I’ll even get there someday.
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2008.02.21
Posted in Writing at 8:13 pm by Jeremiah Wittevrongel
Over this past weekend I finished the first draft of a story I’ve been working on called Waters of R’lyeh. As you might guess from the title, it’s a horror story set in the Cthulhu Mythos. I’m quite happy with how it turned out, but it still definitely needs polish.
Once I’m finished revising it, I’ll be recording it in audio form. It’s about half the length of the Howl from Beyond, so it will probably be split into two parts, around 20 minutes each, when it’s recorded.
Of course, I’ll post it here when I’m done.
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2007.09.30
Posted in Writing at 10:26 pm by Jeremiah Wittevrongel
Twilight is a time when the edges of things are blurred, and the fantastical comes almost within reach. It is a time when the ordinary becomes extraordinary, and when perceptions can be irrevocably changed. It is a time of transition, of unexpected challenges and experiences. It is a time for stories.
It is also the title of a collection of short stories I am working on.
I’ve started the process of recording the stories completed so far into audio format, which is a large learning experience for me, but I’m having fun with it. At this point, I will not be publishing via podiobooks.com, since I do not yet have enough material. Still, I’m going to record what I have and post it here on my weblog, as part of an (ongoing) short story collection titled Twilight.
It will be published as any other audio podcast. I’ll probably submit it to iTunes and a few other places, since it won’t be any worse than half the podcasts I’ve listened to.
As the collection of stories grows, I may eventually publish it on podiobooks.com (still a goal of mine), but it’s just going to take a little bit longer. I’m actually pretty close to the minimums if I collect all of the material I’ve written, but I’d like to get to the point where I have about double my current material before I submit it for publication.
With that goal in mind, I have lots of work to do…
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2007.09.01
Posted in Writing at 7:13 pm by Jeremiah Wittevrongel
Well, it’s taken me nearly six months, but I finally managed to turn out a complete first draft of my short story. There were numerous interruptions and re-thinking of plot details throughout the process, and a whole ton of research I never made direct use of in the story, but I’m happy with the results so far. Weighing in at 12,000 words, it’s not a very long story, but it’s the longest piece of fiction I have ever attempted.
Now comes the tedious process of editing and revising, and then I will be recording the story in audio format. I’ve already read the story aloud dozens of times (piecemeal), so the prospect of recording it is particularly exciting for me.
There are numerous incidental topics I would like to address with regards to what I discovered during the process of writing, but those will have to wait for future posts.
For now, I’ll leave you with the prologue as it currently stands:
Arthur sat in an overstuffed chair, the red leather of its upholstery in stark contrast to the brown, fading cover of the book in his hands. Turning it over slowly in the soft light of early dawn, he paused to wonder if he would get it back when this was all over. After all, it was one of only two copies that remained. Sighing, he reminded himself that it was the only way to make contact now. Gregory had died too young, and she would not quickly come to trust anybody else.
They had known her all her life; had known from the beginning that it would be she who would represent them. Theirs was a delicate game; move too soon, and the enemy would learn too much. So they had waited. Waited too long perhaps, but it could not be helped. Now, with scarcely a week left, it could be delayed no longer. Contact must be made before the others found her.
Arthur put down the book and picked up the phone. First contact would be made tomorrow.
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2007.04.25
Posted in Writing at 10:18 pm by Jeremiah Wittevrongel
As I’ve discussed before, I’m working on a short story that I intend on publishing in audio format. In fact, in my view the only reason I’m writing it down is so I have something I can read and record. The written version may never see the light of day.
Having completed enough of the research and plot outlining to actually start writing, I’ve now completed the first draft of chapter 1 and roughly half of chapter 2. I don’t have a particular written length in mind for the finished work, but I do have a goal for the audio. Ideally, I would like the story to consist of 60-80 minutes of audio, not counting the front and end matter for each episode. To get a feel for the pacing that is required, I’ve already been reading the work aloud with a timer set (but not recording it yet), and noting the timings.
At least, timing the readings was the initial reason for reading my story aloud to myself. It’s still one of the reasons I’m continuing to do so, but I’ve discovered that reading my story aloud to myself is useful for a number of other reasons.
Foremost among these reasons is that reading the story aloud helps me to pick out sections of text that don’t read smoothly, or that don’t sound the way I want them to. It’s easy to write something that seems to work on paper, but I’m finding it more challenging to get a flow that works well when read aloud. Since the written work is actually secondary to the end goal of recording the audio version in my case, I can focus on the sound of the text as opposed to the read of the text.
Of course, by writing text that sounds good, it turns out that it also reads well. It’s a technique that I never considered using before, and I can already see that it’s helping me to identify passages that need work.
Another bonus is that it gives me practice reading aloud. Silly as that may sound to some, anyone who listens to audiobooks with any frequency will have listened to at least work that was terribly read, to the point of being almost unlistenable. Unfortunately, it turns out that it’s very easy to read something poorly when reading aloud; I have a great deal of respect the people who do it on a regular basis to publish audio versions of novels. I’m aiming to be a passable reader of my own work, which for me primarily means focusing on my pacing (slowing down) and also on enunciating more clearly.
A third, but minor benefit, is that reading aloud gives me a different sort of familiarity with my work; for instance, I know which words need stress when read aloud in order to better convey my intended meaning. In the end, I’m hoping this will translate into a bit less time spent recording and editing, but that remains to be seen.
All of this reading aloud has the side effect that my neighbours might think I’ve gone off the deep end. I’m sitting at my computer when I’m reading my work aloud (from the screen), and at present, that puts me very close to the wall that separates my apartment from the neighbouring one. If they can hear me (though I doubt they can), they’ve been treated to the sound of my voice reading Chapter 1 of my story. Over and over. I’ve probably read my draft of chapter 1 aloud 6 or 7 times thus far, and I’m sure there are more readings to come.
Let’s hope the neighbours can’t hear, for their sake.
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2007.03.29
Posted in Writing at 7:28 pm by Jeremiah Wittevrongel
I’m working on a short story that I eventually intend on publishing in audio format. So far, I’ve managed to get a very rough outline of the plot completed, and a good chunk of the research done. I now understand the two principal characters well enough to write about them, at least. I still have some more research to go, however. And I’m finding that I’m turning to some sources I never would have thought of at the outset.
My story involves werewolves, and also has two secret societies that need to be researched before I can fill in some of the plot details. Most of my research into my werewolf mythos has come from my own previous notes and writings. There’s a werewolf story I’ve wanted to tell for a while, and in fact it was the genesis of this story. I’ve turned to some other sources of werewolf folklore to make sure my implementation is consistent with other literature, and that’s all well and good. There are two aspects of werewolves that I still need to research further:
- The organization of werewolves as a race. Do they live clans? Packs? Tribes? What are their political structures?
- The extent of the werewolves’ powers.
It also turns out that I really don’t have a lot of experience with the idea of secret societies, so I’m having a bit of trouble with creating the ones I need for the story. For researching all of these, I’ve turned to sources that truly surprise me. Here they are:
- Findley, Nigel D. 1992. GURPS Illuminati. Steve Jackson Games.
- Ladyman, D. 1989.GURPS the Prisoner. Steve Jackson Games.
- Chupp, S. et al.Werewolf: The Apocalypse. Stone Mtn., GA: White Wolf.
Some of you will already know why I find these to be unusual sources for research, based on the titles and / or the publishers. For those who aren’t familiar with these books, they’re all core rule books for role playing games (RPGs). Yes, I mean like Dungeons and Dragons.
I’m using them primarily as a source of inspiration; a starting point. They’re great for this purpose. The GURPS books discuss secret societies from the perspectives of how they should behave as a group and how their members behave individually. The Werewolf book discusses the social and political structures of werewolves in the Werewolf: The Apocalypse role playing universe, and also discusses various werewolf powers and how they manifest.
My story is not set in any of these role playing universes, but they have provided me with some ideas upon which I can base my own construction. They’re great for this purpose owing to their high amount of detail and also their propensity towards roleplaying. The idea behind role playing core rule books and source books is to give the role playing Game Master material from which to create campaigns. In other words, they’re geared to be used for the purposes of storytelling.
I guess the only other thing that I’ve noticed about my research so far is how much time it has taken. I’m working on this story as time permits (in other words, very slowly), but already I have a newfound respect for authors of much longer works. I can’t even begin to imagine the amount of research that must go into writing something on the scale of an epic fantasy where a whole new world has to be created to a high level of detail. This world needs politics, geography, history, and everything else that makes a world real.
I don’t have a time frame for completing my short story, but I will say that I’m happy with the progress thus far. I’ll try to post the odd update as things progress.
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2007.02.07
Posted in Short Stories, Writing at 8:16 pm by Jeremiah Wittevrongel
“It was like a train wreck – you didn’t want to watch, but you couldn’t look away.”
I snap out of my daydream and regard my lunch companions, realizing I have no idea what they are talking about. No doubt it was some anecdote from a drunken frat party a few years ago when the four of us were in university together. It’s easy to wax nostalgic about those days, now that all of us have real jobs in the real world. This entire road trip is really an attempt to recapture some of the magic of those days, though none of us would admit it.
Where the hell are we, anyway? We made it as far as Kelowna yesterday before Joe announced that we were all starting to stink and that we needed to find a hot shower pronto. Nobody argued, and I think we were all glad for the break and a rest. Steve’s 89 Tercel was a little small for us four guys.
But now we’re a half day further down the road, a half day I spent sleeping with my neck uncomfortably propped on my jacket as a pillow. Downing the rest of our lunches, we head back to the car. I notice a few signs on the way. Hope, BC. We aren’t far from Vancouver now. The plan is to spend a couple of days there, then head south to Seattle or Portland, maybe further. So long as we make it back to Calgary in ten days, it doesn’t really matter to any of us.
The lull of the engine and the gentle vibration of the vehicle as it reaches highway speeds make me realize how tired I am. I curl up as best I can on the sticky vinyl seat, and quickly fall fast asleep.
“Dave. Dave!”
“Mmmph?”
“Dude, you’re snoring. Wake up!”
“Mmph.”
My eyes finally blink open, just as Mike opens his mouth to say something. “‘Morning, sunshine! We’re just about at Hope, and we’re gonna stop for some lunch.”
“There’s a great little diner just off the main drag,” Joe chimes in. “You’ll love it – straight outta the 50s. Almost like it’s still stuck there.”
“Hey, wait a sec – You said Hope, right? I thought we left Hope already.”
“Dude, it’s only 11:30. We didn’t even leave Kelowna until 9:00. This pieceashit don’t move that fast.”
I guess it was a dream. Except why would I dream about a diner in Hope, BC? Maybe as I was dozing in the car I picked up on the guys talking about it. That must be it.
“So there’s this guy at the party. Don’t know who invited him, but there he was. Maybe he was crashing or somethin’,” said Joe, in between gulps of cheeseburger. “Anyways, he was about the saddest thing you ever saw. Clothes straight outta the 80s, and a mullet. I mean, come on, the mullet went out of style in what, 1986?”
“I’m not sure the mullet was ever in style.” Steve, ever the fashionista. “I never had one, thank god.”
“Well, I’m not sure the Tercel was ever in style, and certainly not in 1989,” quips Mike. He had never lived down his 3rd grade class picture, and it’s still a bit of a sore spot with him.
Everyone laughs, and Joe continues on with his story while the rest of us continue eating.
“So this guy, OK, nobody knew who he was. He looks around the party for a bit, then walks straight up to the most beautiful girl there, and straight out asks her for her number. She totally shuts him down, but undeterred, he turns and starts talking to one of her friends and asks her for her number. By this point, half the people at the party were just standing there, watching this guy. It was like a train wreck – you didn’t want to watch, but you couldn’t look away.”
“What did you just say?” I interject.
“Dude, haven’t you been listening? This guy was a total dork…”
“Yeah, I heard ya. That last bit, though. Whadja say about it bein’ like a train wreck?”
“Yeah, like a train wreck. Didn’t want to watch, but couldn’t look away. Come on, you must’ve heard that one before.”
“Oh, sure, I guess so.” My poor attempt at a cover fooled anyone, but nobody had the wherewithal to call me on it.
“Well, I’m stuffed”, says Joe, and follows it up with a loud belch as punctuation. Where he had time to eat with all his talking I’ll never know. “Let’s make like a shepherd and get the flock outta here.”
Lost in my own thoughts, I follow the rest of the crew back to the Tercel. Had it just been a dream?
Steve’s driving, and Mike’s flipping through tracks on the iPod, looking for something. Next thing I know, we’re all being assaulted with the opening guitar riff from Faster Kill Pussycat.
“Aw, come on, dude. Not again. We’ve already listened to this disc like three times this trip. You’ve got what, like, 12 gigs of music on that thing? Why not something else?” complains Joe.
“Cuz this is the shit! I bet this is what Madonna rocks out to when she cranks up her iPod.”
“Who cares what that tramp listens to?” retorts Joe.
“And how d’ya know she even owns an iPod?” asks Steve.
“Everyone knows that, stupid.”
The banter continues, but I’m not listening. I’m yawning. Why have I been sleeping so much lately? Oh well. Being well rested when we get to Vancouver is a good thing – these guys will want to party all night. So I doze off.
“Hey, Dave. Dave! Wake up, dude.”
I open my eyes and stretch, taking in my surroundings groggily.
“Hey, it’s still light out. We in Vancouver yet?”
“Does it look like we’re in Van?” asks Steve sarcastically, guesturing out the window. “We’re almost in Hope, and I’m starving. Everyone cool if we stop for some grub? I know a great little diner…”
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