Writing the Spin-Off

So what are the limits to writing a spin-off novel? I mean there are sequels, prequels, spin-offs, and probably a few others I can’t think of right now, but where should a series really end?

 I originally wrote Jeremiah Stone because I was told no publisher or agent will even discuss the possibility of taking on a 9 book series (which was the first series I’d written) from an untested, unpublished author. Thereby I decided to write a single book, though I left it open for a follow-up book if I came up with in idea. That idea, once I conceived it, turned into Limbus and Azazel thus making it a trilogy. At the same time I was writing those books I was also working on blog posts for a precursor to Jeremiah Stone, which I later turned into Beginnings, a prequel.

However, since publishing Jeremiah Stone I’ve received comments from a few people about a character within the story named Opus. On a whim I started conceiving of how the character actually becomes the sinister, yet snide, death-loving killer within the novel. With some thought I started tapping the keys on my way to what can only be considered a spin-off novel. And so far the novel is both fun and exciting to write. On the way, I’ve actually incorporated another character into the story out of the Limbus novel. In the end I believe this will almost be a story onto itself with another a-ha ending.

But is that it for the series? Or really, have I done too much already?

I will say that I’ve conceived of a story past Azazel, but doubt I have the wherewithal to really write it. I guess it depends on if there is a demand for it. Even then I have so many other book ideas it may never come to fruition for simply the lack of time to write it. Still, for now I plug away at my Opus novel while my other book, Burden, awaits some inspiration. I imagine that is really the way with things, you write what inspires you at the moment. Maybe a series is done when you’re no longer motivated to delve into other possible realms with the same characters.

Honestly, I don’t know. For now, however, one spin-off seems like more than enough.

Into the Coffee House

So I had an inspiring moment the other day which resulted in five pages of good writing (at least I think so because the story moved in the direction I needed it to). Anyway, this moment came over a beer (or 3) at a local bar. And yes I regularly take my laptop to bars and write. Its just one of the things I do. Anyway, at that time the words flowed easily. I didn’t have to force anything or even try to think as paragraphs formed at my fingertips. It was one of those perfect writing moments. The only thing which could’ve made it better would be the lack of Karoke singing in my ears.

(Why do people who can’t sing feel the need to express their lack of talent in public? – well, that’s another blog entry.)

The following morning, however, I try to recapture that moment, that ease of which my fingers danced across the keyboard, but I had no such look. In fact, I could only stare at the ending of the previous night’s paragraph dumbfounded. This is not to say it wasn’t good, but rather my thoughts couldn’t pick up where I’d left off. So after five minutes of trying to regain the moment and failing miserably, I decided to check my email, facebook, yahoo, and the half-dozen other sites I regularly venture too.

Now, a couple hours later, I realize my mistake. No beer…. and maybe no coffee either. I’m a two cup of joe a day type of guy. One right when I get up and another about two hours later. In fact, if I forget my coffee for some unseen reason, a headache ensues around 10am. Yes, I’m addicted and I know it, but I don’t care.

Now back to the point. Coffee (or beer) makes me comfortable. It’s like mom’s cooking. It’s familiar. It sets me at ease. It somehow brings the world into alignment. Most of all, it’s relaxing and provides a sense of security. I realize I need this to write. This is not to say I need peace and quiet, but rather a feeling of ease. Without it, without coffee or beer handy, my writing seems forced. It doesn’t flow. It’s abrupt.

So with me, it’s not the comfort of a location I need in order to write, but rather the feeling of comfort no matter the setting.

One other thing. Because I tend to write in what people consider to be odd locations like an airport or bar or as a passenger in a car, you should know I can be interrupted, but please only do so when I look up from the keyboard. This usually happens when I need another Grande Skinny Hazelnut No-Foam Latte. Now be a gem and bring me one, here’s my card.

Getting to the Point

I’ve heard a lot about writing with purpose or making it meaningful. I have to agree to a point, but it’s not always so. As a old writer, but newly published, I have to say some of my best writing started from single word or phrase without purpose behind it at all. If anything the purpose of it was to simply write because the more I write the better I get at it. And believe me I needed to get better. A lot of those times a meaning arrived out of my writing as my words finally took shape formulating an idea, the idea gained focus, and in the end a point was made. In the beginning, however, none of that existed.

Even now, I’m writing two different stories. One story I’ve planned for several months and the other I started on a whim. Funny thing is the one I’ve planned has stagnated whereas the one without design is going balls-to-the-wall. On top of that I’m not sure where the next chapter, let alone paragraph, is going to take me. I simply let the words flow and sooner or later a purpose for them forms. And here is the one piece of advice I have about it, ACTION.

When I say action, I mean don’t let the story stagnate. Don’t get long winded on description. Don’t delve into mundane thoughts. Instead, create dialogue or controversy, but never splay it all out for your reader. Keep them guessing, which for me is easy because I’m usually trying to guess where the story is going next also. Beyond that, try not to focus everything on one character unless that is the single perspective you’re writing from.

Frankly, I prefer to have 2 or 3 characters I move between. This way if I get bored with one then I can start with another. In fact the current story has three characters I’m dealing with. Each has their purpose, yet one character dropped off the radar for a chapter so I wrote something about him. Needless to say it didn’t fit in the storyline when I finished writing, but I did figure out where it could go, though I haven’t gotten there yet. Writing those few pages, however, got me out of a rut and back into the story while providing a point I need to push my writing towards. Because of that small tangent into another character, I now have purpose to my writing and to the story.

So let your mind drift and be spontaneous. Even if your writing doesn’t mean anything now, there may be a time when you can use it for something else. Or it may even inspire you towards something new. And never give up, never stop writing no matter the subject.

See, I did it again. I started with a blank sheet and a thought. In the end I’ve given my words purpose (at least I hope so).

Blogging

Now I understand the point of blogging, which is to give people a taste of what’s on your mind, good or bad, something random or significant though of interest, but for a new writer it’s another avenue to express yourself and possibly gain a following. And in the world of an author gaining a following is what it’s all about because if people like what you say or you can intrigue them with a character or storyline, then they may purchase your novel. But the question still remains of how to get people to find your blog in the first place. I guess it could be a matter of time, but I have to believe (or maybe want to believe) it’s more than that.

I hear from fellow bloggers they get 30 to 100 hits a day and I’m like wow. I get a few a week. Still I have to tell myself its better than none. Maybe because these people have more to say than I do, which could definitely be the case. I’m kind of a recluse, a thinker who sits in the dark and contemplates a world or a storyline or a character within my next novel. I don’t feel the need to spit out randomness on a whim hoping to intrigue, not that I could. My thoughts take time to form and have to be relevant (at least to me).  This is why I only put a post once a week here. Yet even then I wonder if any of it is all that astounding.

Nor do I have the time to blog-hop regularly. I hear this is the way to get your opinion seen and if people agree with what you say or you stir controversy then they may come to see what’s on your blog. Maybe I should dedicate more time to this but right now I find my time taken up in another endeavor, writing.

I’m putting serious time into writing a new book. It’s an arduous process because I’m not a fast typist. It’s made even slower because I’m not a fast thinker either. I’m trying to plot out the story logically so it meets up with the character from my book Jeremiah Stone. Therefore I know the ending and had the beginning in mind when I started, but now I’m working on connecting those two dots. Also it feels like I’m moving at a snail’s pace now because I’m having two people critique the opening chapter very carefully so I’m going back and edit portions regularly.

It’s because of this, however, that my time for blogging or blog-hopping has diminished. And seeing as writing is my passion and not my day-to-day job (yet), I do have other obligations if I want to keep bringing home a paycheck. So I am torn.

One other thing, I’m also working on the re-write of the first book in my series of nine, Mage of Chaos. It’s taken some time, but I believe it’s gotten better though I’m still waiting on feedback from it. Here’s an excerpt (unedited):

Countess Elaina watched the proceeding of the test through the minds of the instructors, her mental link to them cemented years earlier. She wasn’t surprised Jaik had survived, though she was disappointed the young man had taken so long to find an escape. The boy’s father could’ve done it in the blink of an eye while sealing the fate of all the instructors in another. And there was no telling what the mother of Jaik could’ve been capable of had she lived long enough to demonstrate her power. Countess Elaina, however, wondered why Jaik didn’t demonstrate either of their prowess for magic. Maybe it because of his age, she thought, known maturity level did have an influence on the creation and stability of magic.

Nevertheless, she still expected more from the child as Jaik was attended to within the stone chamber and given a healing ward. Thankfully, Jaik never realized her presence during the test because it might have affected the results. After all, there was no telling how emotions would temper magic at his age.

“He did well,” one of the instructors commented as they all watched Jaik be dragged from the room.

“Sloppy,” Countess Elaina stated coldly quelling the instructor, her elegance belying her bitterness. “I expected better considering his parents.”

“Who were they?” a different instructor asked innocently only to find himself writhing on the floor a heartbeat later, screams a hairs breadth away from filling the room if only the man could’ve caught his breath against the pain.

“If you were meant to know then you would know,” the countess said as she drank in the pain she inflicted on the instructor like a drug. “Test the others,” she commanded while ignoring the elder mage who spasmodically danced across the floor in agony. “And don’t be so lenient. This is nothing like the testing in Overlook,” she added scornfully, “where they have real mages.” Then she glanced down at the mage who was in his final twitches of life. “All of you need to remember your place,” she said before turning to leave out the heavy iron door as the mage finally stilled in death. “You’re a tool, my tool.”

Her exit was met with a sigh of relief from everyone present except for the dead mage on the floor who involuntarily emptied his bowels. Countess Elaina, however, couldn’t care less as her thoughts returned to the event seven years earlier. It was the event which put Jake under her care. It was tragic, even more so because Jaik would never forgive her or any of the others their actions, though he was too young to remember any of it clearly. All he remembered was his hate which was the same thing she remembered when her love was first taken away from her. Back then her bitterness bred revenge, the same sentiment which darkened the soul of Jaik.

And to think the boy was once the only bright spot in a life she hated. Now she wondered whose hate was more engrained, a young boy’s or an aged woman’s. Unfortunately with Jaik surviving today’s test, it wouldn’t be much longer before he became just another tool for her to use. It was a shame his talents would be wasted, but then she couldn’t just let a boy of his power out of her control because there was no telling the destruction Jaik could bring against her and the others. And she dared not tempt fate again, though the possibility of Jaik’s future was the only reason why she attended the test today.