IN SOMNIS VERITAS: In Dreams, Truth
This was my first attempt at writing a novel. My friends and I played D&D (Dungeons and Dragons for you lay-folk) when I was in my teens and it was a fun outlet for some of my more random 'fantasy' creations. I quit playing right around the same time (the exact same day) I started dating my first "real" girlfriend. My mind, however, never gave up creating quirky stories and characters the likes of which I would have role-played with in my youth.
One day in 2008 the first paragraph of this story popped into my head and couldn't find it's way out until I put it to paper.
"Ometten sat impatiently at his recently delivered glass desk. The self proclaimed master manipulator of the elements couldn’t control his boredom. One by one each long sharp nail, on each long slender finger, tapped the glass which created a distinct echo in the overly large room that was his grand laboratory. Ometten sat slumped forward in his chair, his face resting gently in the palm of his left hand."
Ometten was a character created by the mind of my best friend, Russell Ward. The characters misadventures and bumbling weren't an abnormal thought to pop into my mind, but for some reason they stuck that day. Afterwards I found myself adding a sentence or two here and there once a day for about two weeks. Soon thereafter I had completed the prologue for what would become this story. Very slowly I started to piece together a paragraph here or a story-arch there. It took me two months to finish the first three chapters and a third month to finish the third. I found myself stuck with a "lack of motivation."
It wasn't until April of 2011 that everything suddenly changed and I found myself between jobs and expertly motivated to get something done with my life. This was one of my "side projects" that had found its way to the back-burner for a few years and I was at a point where I would no longer tolerate apathy.
So I wrote. I wrote and wrote and wrote until I realized I didn't need to write anymore. When all was said and done I had found a new job, managed to pay my rent on time each month, and typed out a grand total of 107,434 words. True enough that some 20,000 of them were from several years before... but I had completed writing a novel and I was as happy as I had ever been despite my hardship. I wrote at least 2,000 words each day--thanks to an article I had read where Stephen King said that was what he had always done--and on one occasion I put down just under 10,000 in about thirteen hours.
I was happy with the story when I finished. Sat down and read it word by precious word looking for lines to change, grammar to correct, or typos to be un-typoed. When I was happy with my first draft I asked six friends to read it over and give me criticism and feedback. Those that read it right away came back with positive things to say. Those that took months (years in one case) had much harsher words for me. I took as much as I could in stride and decided that if I wanted my novel to go anywhere it needed to be edited, adjusted and changed. I didn't have the heart for it then. I'm growing the heart for it again now.
It may take me some time, but eventually I'll do what must be done. The story will never make me any money, but it will see publication... one day.
This was my first attempt at writing a novel. My friends and I played D&D (Dungeons and Dragons for you lay-folk) when I was in my teens and it was a fun outlet for some of my more random 'fantasy' creations. I quit playing right around the same time (the exact same day) I started dating my first "real" girlfriend. My mind, however, never gave up creating quirky stories and characters the likes of which I would have role-played with in my youth.
One day in 2008 the first paragraph of this story popped into my head and couldn't find it's way out until I put it to paper.
"Ometten sat impatiently at his recently delivered glass desk. The self proclaimed master manipulator of the elements couldn’t control his boredom. One by one each long sharp nail, on each long slender finger, tapped the glass which created a distinct echo in the overly large room that was his grand laboratory. Ometten sat slumped forward in his chair, his face resting gently in the palm of his left hand."
Ometten was a character created by the mind of my best friend, Russell Ward. The characters misadventures and bumbling weren't an abnormal thought to pop into my mind, but for some reason they stuck that day. Afterwards I found myself adding a sentence or two here and there once a day for about two weeks. Soon thereafter I had completed the prologue for what would become this story. Very slowly I started to piece together a paragraph here or a story-arch there. It took me two months to finish the first three chapters and a third month to finish the third. I found myself stuck with a "lack of motivation."
It wasn't until April of 2011 that everything suddenly changed and I found myself between jobs and expertly motivated to get something done with my life. This was one of my "side projects" that had found its way to the back-burner for a few years and I was at a point where I would no longer tolerate apathy.
So I wrote. I wrote and wrote and wrote until I realized I didn't need to write anymore. When all was said and done I had found a new job, managed to pay my rent on time each month, and typed out a grand total of 107,434 words. True enough that some 20,000 of them were from several years before... but I had completed writing a novel and I was as happy as I had ever been despite my hardship. I wrote at least 2,000 words each day--thanks to an article I had read where Stephen King said that was what he had always done--and on one occasion I put down just under 10,000 in about thirteen hours.
I was happy with the story when I finished. Sat down and read it word by precious word looking for lines to change, grammar to correct, or typos to be un-typoed. When I was happy with my first draft I asked six friends to read it over and give me criticism and feedback. Those that read it right away came back with positive things to say. Those that took months (years in one case) had much harsher words for me. I took as much as I could in stride and decided that if I wanted my novel to go anywhere it needed to be edited, adjusted and changed. I didn't have the heart for it then. I'm growing the heart for it again now.
It may take me some time, but eventually I'll do what must be done. The story will never make me any money, but it will see publication... one day.
