Onions.  They give you bad breath but adds flavor to the food we eat.  Have you ever peeled one?  Peel the rough skin and reveal a fresh moist layer.  Peel that and there’s another silky layer.  On and on.

In writing my book, I purposefully laid in layers to give it a sense of depth.  On the surface, it’s a fast-paced, action packed, page turner (damn, I’m conceited).  There’s sex.  There’s mayhem.  Want betrayal?  You got it.  Want love?  You got it.

Slice under that superficial layer and you’ll find a deeper understanding of the story.  Billowing clouds may reflect a character’s painful conflict within.  Heat from a fire reflecting off someone’s clothes may echo the character’s anger.  Wind may symbolize a character’s dominance over their lands.

In 1954 a renowned filmmaker released what’s considered one of the best films ever made:  Seven Samurai.  It’s about a Japanese farming village, constantly beseiged and pillaged by an army of bandits, recruits seven independent samurai to defend it.

Akira Kurosawa’s films have influenced great directors such as Steven Spielberg and George Lucas.  In fact, Star Wars was heavily influenced by The Hidden Fortress, a Kurosawa film.

I have to admit, when I watched Seven Samurai, I was like, “What da hell?”

I was caught off guard by the soundtrack, pacing and language (despite my slanty eyes, I don’t speak Japanese).  I did drag myself through the length of the film, all three hours and forty-five minutes.

Luckily, I had bought The Criterion Collection of the film.  There are tons of lectures on the DVD discs, and I listened to all of them, wanting to learn everything I could.  What I learned had a profound effect on me and my writing.  Or is it my writing and I?

Consolidating Kurosawa’s genius would be difficult and insulting.  But here I go.  He controlled everything because everything in his films had a purpose, a reason.  Every word, action, shadow, even the swipe or fading to the next scene meant something.  If someone broke wind, there was a purpose.  Unless it was silent but deadly.

The most interesting character is Kikuchiyo, played by Toshiro Mifune.  He doesn’t exactly look like a samurai, nor does he walk like one.  So is he a samurai?  He lugs his extra long sword on his shoulder instead of holstering it around his waist like the other six.  What does this say about Kikuchiyo?  Is he compensating for something?  Or is there a deeper story within the character?

In his dramatic scene, Kikuchiyo admits he was once a villager and somehow found his way to samuraism. (Is that even a word?)  This didn’t happen in those days of Japan.  It was difficult enough to move up the ranks of the samurai.  And admitting you were once a villager was like admitting you’re a woman, when you’re really a man, but without the operation.

The lectures in the special features stated Kikuchiyo symbolized the filmmaker, Kurosawa.  His views were somehow reminiscent of Kikuchiyo and his rise in society and that Japan had moved into the modern era.  This is further symbolized when each samurai is killed by a modern weapon:  the gun.  Once the villagers were saved, they continued their lives giving any thought to their saviors.  We see the surviving samurai walk from the cemetery where their comrades were buried and out to the horizon, never to return.

I rewatched the film many times, and I grew to love it. The story density is amazing.

It’s interesting to see how we clamor to the magazine stands to find out the latest on celebrities.  What atrocities have they committed?  But if we were truly curious about who they were, all we’d have to do is turn to their art.

For art is the language of the soul.

Most people abhor movie sequels. Not sure why since they usually do well in the box office. But I think the lost love comes from not being as good as the first movie. Part of that comes from character development.  With a lot of stories, the main character goes through a change like going from being unconfident to confident.  And once that’s done that character becomes uninteresting.  The sequel now has to depend on plot.

James Bond as a character doesn’t change at all.  All of his stories are sold based on plot and fan base.  It’s no wonder the actors change so much.  They have to to keep the audience interested.

Then came Casino Royale.  One of the things Bond doesn’t do is fall in love.  He’s a slam-bam-thank-you-mam kinda guy.  Nothing wrong with that.  He whips it out, tugs hard, holds tight, and bam.  I was talking about the gun.  But in Casino, Bond not only whipped it out–not talking about his gun–but let his love interest have it.  I’m talking about his emotions.

The man fell in love.

Add the banter between the two love birds, the plot, and a blonde Bond, and you get one of the best Bond movies ever made.  But once Quantum of Solace came out, it received mixed reviews.  And here we get into franchises.

In my search for a literary agent, I came across an article written by one.  He wrote something that made a lot of sense.  As writers, we have to know that the publishing industry is a business.  As a business, once a platform does well publishers will want to build off it to make more money.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians is a five-book series.  I haven’t read the books, but I’ve spotted them as I walk through Borders.  There are tons of Trilogies.  But they’re small potatoes.  There are book series that last a dozen books.  Some series are even ongoing.  Publishers often urge the writer to continue the series before venturing outside of that domain.

It’s a business.

The problem, as stated above, is character development.  How can a writer continue to make the character interesting?  Put her through a lot of crap through plot?  Maybe.  How about having change occur in supporting characters?  Or what about creating new issues with the main character, and adding change in supporting ones?

Here’s where J.K. Rowling did a great job.  As Harry grew up in those seven years, he changed just like a real person.  Shocking.  That and the red herrings, plot, the close knit friendships made for a great read.  Rowling satisfied the publishing world’s philosophy of building on a fan base, but satisfied her fans by creating incredible plot with highly relatable characters.

As writers, we need to keep at heart the art but also keep an eye on the world of business.

I’d just watched a great movie called Man From Earth.  The premise is awesome, and without it I wouldn’t have watched it.  But during a good-gye party, friends learn that the honorary guest is a caveman who has lived for 14,000 years.  That’s right.  A bonafied caveman, cro magnon, to be exact.

It was written by famed science fantasy writer, Jerome Bixby.

It’s a fantastic premise because what the caveman reveals is just earth shattering.  I’d suggest watching.

One of the things John, the caveman, reveals is that he was a well known religious figure.  Everyone in the party at this point doesn’t really know whether to believe his story so far, but to claim to be this certain figure seems heinous.  Until John explains how this religious figure got his mythical status.  How history can apply layers of mythicism on an individual.

And that got me thinking.

I’d had the pleasure of pitching to Donald Maass, the famed New York agent who wrote How to Write the Breakout Novel.  This was my first book on writing.  I’d attended his one hour lecture at the San Francisco Writer’s Conference.  His whole thing is to write with emotional depth and make your story big.  Big with emotions.  (Wow.  I’m using a lot of fragments today.)

Some examples are betrayal, retribution, and the all time favorite “I hate you, dad!”

In my book, my hero has severe issues with his father.  His father left him without saying good-bye after being convicted of a murder.  With this, a lot of people assumed that the father was guilty, despite his fervent attempt to prove his innocence.  Kinda like OJ hurling down the freeway at 152.5 MPH.

My hero is left with the question of why.  Was his father guilty?  Did he not love my hero enough?  What did my hero do to make his father leave?  As the days pass, my hero is forced to answer these questions and begins to layer greatness upon his estranged father.

Sorta like someone breaking up with you, and you can’t stop thinking about all the good times you both had, even though there may have been a lot of bad.

Maass said these past parental issues tend to manifest themselves in other parts of your life.  For example, if your father was a perfectionist, forced and punished you to be a perfectionist, then you grow up and torture yourself to be a perfectionist at work.  Your relationships go bad because you’re trying to find the perfect man or woman.  You can’t seem to settle on any home that you visit, driving your real estate agent crazy.  You go into deep debt, buying every electronic device because they keep getting better.  You get ten plastic surgeries trying to fit the perfect mold.  All because your father prodded you to be perfect.  Then, all of a sudden, you yell at a picture of your father, “I hate you, dad!”  But what you actually hate is the person you’ve turned into, and, hopefully, as up-lifting stories go, you realize that his world of perfection doesn’t have to be yours.  And you begin to live a life that’s true to you.

The point is, when writing stories, sometimes childhood issues bubble up without the character knowing it.  He may never know it.  She may scream at a jar of honey and remember when her mother yelled at her for spilling honey on their new carpet.  It’s a great way of deepening a character.

In my postAre You a Complainer,I ask the question, “Are you a complainer?”  Some of you may complain that the last sentence was a bit redundant.  My friend made a comment:  Odd that people would accept a habit that makes them feel miserable.  I think the reason may be people are comfortable.

People want the above picture.  A road that lights up that leads to their destination.

People will even follow a road like this, which I think reflects life a bit more.

But if you were the rock, which path would you follow?  The straight path?  The curvy one?  How about the third?

I was reading another writer’s post, and they were talking about why writers write, knowing thechancesany kind of success is freakin’ low.

Here’s my view: Learn the lesson of the turtle.

I wrote The 7th Province and will continue to write the two books in this series and the prequels because some how for some reason these stories were given to me to write.  I write these posts because when I come across something that invokes a thought close to my heart, I write about it.

It is what it is cuz it ain’t what it ain’t.

Duh.

Despite the millions of books that are written each year, writing is the unbeaten path.

When I went to the San Francisco Writer’s Conference, I talked to a lot of writers.  Many were published.  Many had written books.  But I was also surprised to find that many writers hadn’t even begun.  Was it their destiny to write?  That’s not for me to answer.  But it seems that those who write, write because they are inspired to.

God!  Here’s that freakin’ word ‘inspire’.

That word invokes an internal meaning.  It’s not ‘outspire’, which isn’t even a word.  Nor is it perspire, which invokes strange odors.  But it’s inspire.  In.

In The Karate Kid, Mr. Miyagi asks Daniel to close his eyes and imagine a perfect picture of a bonsai tree.

Mr. Miyagi:  Wipe your mind clean.  Everything but the tree.  Nothing exists in whole world…only tree.  You got it?  Open eyes.  Remember picture?

Daniel-san:  Yeah.

Mr. Miyagi:  Make like picture.  Just trust the picture.

Daniel-san:  How do I know my picture’s the right one?

Mr. Miyagi:  If come from inside you, always right one.

Do what you love, love what you do.

Happy New Year!

In the midst of the many New Year resolutions, one of the things that writers seem not to do is polish their writing.  And before you unleash hell on my posts, I’m talking about query letters and manuscripts.

Would you like to buy a paper cut?

I’ve been painstakingly researching agents.  And it seems their main complaint about query letters is proof reading.  I didn’t believe it at first.  Why would writers proof read their manuscript and not a single page letter?  But as I read agents’ blogs and interviews, this was among one of the top reasons for rejection.

This brought to mind one of the things I took away from anagent panel. Polish your manuscript.  The agents will wait.  And they will.

I had sent my manuscript to an independent editor.  His claim to fame was being the first editor for Stephen King.  When I got my manuscript back, I had noticed some common follies I’d made.  Here’s the list:

• Towards, Upwards, Downwards, Backwards, etc
  • Eliminate the ’s’
• Way
  • Is way necessary?
  • “He backed away into the table” vs. “He backed into the table.”
• It’s vs. Its (It is vs. Its)
  • I knew this, but was unconsciously mixing both up.  This is pretty common apparently.
• , and then
  • According to the editor, it’s good style to eliminate the word ‘and’ when using this word combination.  But I’ve seen it used by best selling authors, which many writers know can get away with stuff new writers can’t.
• Very
  • I knew not to use this much, but the editor made a good point.  Who’s angrier?  Jonny’s angry.  But Jenny’s very angry.
• Jumping up, Stretched out, Stood up, Spread out
  • The editor strongly suggested with his thick red marker that words such as “up” and “out” usually aren’t necessary.  The difference between jumping up and jumping is just an extra word.
  • What I did in Microsoft Word was search the words “up” and “out” and looked at the context.  Did the meaning differ if I removed those words?  If not, then I send them to word limbo.  Otherwise I kept them.
  • If I described a motion other than the obvious, such as “jumping forward”, then I use forward.  So context is going to be important when eliminating “up” or “out”.
• Amongst
  • The editor didn’t like this word and asked me to use “among” instead.
• Further vs. farther
  • Farther usually refers to distance.  “Let’s walk farther in.”
    • First three letters is F A R, which is far.  A good way to remember the difference.
  • Further usually refers to a greater extent.  “I don’t want to discuss this further.”
• Forward vs. Foreword
  • Forward is movement.
  • Foreword is an introductory statement to a piece of written work.
• That vs. Who
  • Use who when referring to a human.  “The man who slapped himself.”
  • Use that when referring to a non-human.  “The car that slapped itself.”
• Everyday vs. Every Day
  • The word “everyday” usually refers to a common occurrence.  Like an everyday routine.
  • The words “every day” means each concurrent day.
• Passed vs. Past
  • Passed is a verb.  “I passed the car.”
  • Past refers to an earlier time or movement.  “I drove past a car.”  “It’s ten past twelve.”
• Almost
  • I was instructed to use almost sparingly.  Is the use direct versus indirect?
  • “I was hungry enough to eat a rock”
  • “I was so hungry I could almost eat a rock”
  • The first sentence is direct, sounds better, and communicates the feeling well.
• Can we really get rid of “really”?
  • The editor strongly suggested with his red marker to eliminate “really”.  He suggested to read the sentence with and without the word and see if the meaning changes.  If it doesn’t, terminate it.
• Scratch vs. Itch
  • Scratch is a verb.  “I scratched my arm.”
  • Itch refers to a feeling.  “My arm itched.”
• Unnecessary Words:
  • “He nodded” is better than “He nodded his head.”
  • “She blinked” is better than “She blinked her floppy eyelids.”
  • “Frank shrugged” is better than “Frank shrugged his broad shoulders up and down.”
• Words to look out for:
  • Lightning (when the Gods are angry) vs. Lightening (when we go on a diet that works!)
  • Wave (raise your hands in the air and wave them like you don’t care) vs. Waive (your rights)
  • “Alongside” is correct.  “Along side” is not.
  • “Throughout” is correct.  “Through out” is not.
  • They’re vs. their vs. there
  • Pick vs. Peak vs. Pique
  • Then vs. Than
  • Sole vs. Soul
  • Slight vs. Sleight
  • Site vs. Sight
• I also did a word search for “ly” and eliminated as many adverbs.  Adverbs really are not necessarily good, given that they really don’t add any extraordinarily deep meaning.  Really.

This is by no means a complete list any of you, including myself, should go by.  Please add your own in the comments, so we can all learn.

Dead eye.  One of the biggest things I notice about all CGI movies are theeyes. They’re dead.

James Cameron has solved that by using motion capture to specifically record the actors’ emotions from the eyes.

But I’m not here to talk about how he made it.  Mostly because it’s beyond me.  I only understand the reasoning behind it like solving dead eye.  Sounds like a disease.

So here’s a list of what I truly loved about the movie as a whole:

• No over usage of CGI as a replacement for story.
• No over usage of 3-D.  In acting there’s a fourth wall, the wall removed so the audience can watch.  Rule is to never break the fourth wall.  But many 3-D movies do because it’s 3-D.
• All of the actors did an incredible job.
• It didn’t feel very heavily directed.
• Clear plot, clear themes, clear characters types.
• And most important of all, there was a good story.

.

I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been so obsessed with story and writing for the past few years, but there were some parts that were predictable, only because the story required it.  Certain key supporting characters died, certain story elements had to happen to drive the plot, the theme and climax. The ending was definitely predictable, and I mean the ending after the climax.  But what was strange was I wanted that ending.  I desired it myself.  And I know why.  Cameron made it important, subtly.

Spoiler alert:

Jake Sully is a paralyzed war veteran.  Without saying it or making such a big deal about it, he wants his legs back.  When he takes over his avatar, he runs out into the open with pure joy.  He’s laughing, yelling, and sprinting, then he takes a moment and digs his toes into the dirt.  That tiny scene was aforever moment.

At that point I was certain Sully was going to be permanently place in his avatar body.  I knew it before I watched the movie.  When it happened it was wholly satisfying like eating a warm chocolate cookie.  There were little things like the digging toes in that emphasized the need for that ending. It really speaks to how Cameron doesn’t over do things like using the technology both given to him, and invented by him.  He’s a storyteller at heart, knowing how to use little things to make certain story elements big.

I’ve experimented with that in writing myepisodes.

Trying to make something big by making it a big deal is a big big mistake.  In one of the writing seminars the teacher made fun of beginner writers when they write about the first serendipitous moment between two lovers.  Paraphrasing here:

“The world stopped as I gazed into her eyes. The ticking of my watch slowed and the flakes of the first snowfall hung in the air.  The hustle of the streets silenced and I felt my heartbeat yearn to feel hers.”

I must admit, when I first heard that I wanted to rush to my manuscript and make sure I didn’t do something similar.

The whole point here is that James Cameron played it well when he told his story.  I didn’t feel overwhelmed by the technology.  I didn’t feel overwhelmed by the directing.  Another words, I didn’t feel his hands in the movie (an example would be the first three episodes of Star Wars).  The actors were awesome. For example, Sigourney Weaver’s character as the dedicated scientist didn’t play up to stereotype.  Sam Worthington’s performance as Jake Sully felt relaxed, which contrasted well to his avatar character (nicely done, communicating a message).  There was a scene where he watched his brother’s cremation, which felt false.  But at least it wasn’t forced like having flashbacks.  And it was OK being false, since it was a small scene, despite requiring to be emotionally heavy.

Avatar is what storytelling should be like, whether computer imaging is involved or not.  I left the theater totally uplifted and inspired and still feel the same as I type these words.  I can’t wait for the sequels.

When it comes to critics I turn a blind eye.  If you can’t do, critique.

When I studied acting, my teacher didn’t really enjoy going to plays.  She went, but not very often.  And it wasn’t because she hated plays.  She loved them.  She’s worked with American greats like Tennessee Williams and Arthur Miller, and several members of New York City’s Group Theater.  But her work, her job analyzing students, whether they were acting well or not, had become second nature.  An example, one scene I did required me to enter the stage.

As I walked on, she said in her frog like voice, “Jimmy. What are you doing?”

“What?  I didn’t even say anything, yet,” I said.

“You didn’t have to.  Your energy wasn’t there.  You weren’t present.”

She was right.  It was one of the coolest things that I remember about her.

So when she goes to theatrical performances, she can’t help but analyze everyone’s performances.

When I go to movies, watch TV or plays, read books, or listen to a story, I can’t help but see certain techniques used to create emotion, depth, the setup, etc.  I can, however, turn it off.  That’s how good I am.  Or maybe that’s how incompetent I am.

Before I went to see Blind Side, starring Sandra Bullock and Quinton Aaron, I saw the viewers’ reviews on Fandango.  It had a green cartoon bubble with a plus sign inside, meaning, go see this movie unless you’re a loser.  Not wanting to be a loser, I went to see it.  One of the things I noticed, just off handedly, there weren’t a lot of disaster.  I caught myself looking for it.It seemed pollyannaish.

I think what saved the movie, aside from being heartwarming, is thehumor.It’s not Will Ferrell kind of humor.  That can and does get annoying.  Absurdity upon absurdity isn’t absurd anymore.  It’s kinda like trying to find a black dot on a black screen.  It was the kind of humor that helps contrast Bullock’s confidence and Aaron’s low key performance.

Even though this movie broke a huge rule in compelling story telling, it worked for the general audience.  Because no matter what a professional critic may say, it’s the fans that determines the success of any work.

In saying that, reading what professional critics say can teach any storyteller some intricacies of the art, especially when they begin to say the same thing over and over again.  If, however, the list of complaints is so varied, then it is just their ownopinions.And we know what that smells like.

“What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; there is nothing new under the sun.”

Ever heard this?

As a storyteller, this can be a very limiting view.  Or is it?

William Shakespeare’s version of Twilight

A prominent screenwriter in Hollywood, David Freeman, gave a seminar.  There are hundreds of seminars I could have attended, but why did I go to his?  If you go to his site, he talks about techniques in writing.  No theories.  In fact, he gave so many techniques, it was like getting a trunk full of tools.  And in any one job, it’s highly unlikely you’ll use all of them, but you’ll definitely use enough to make your story emotional, something he emphasizes a lot.

He agreed with the quote above, but in a very un-limiting way.

I love going to movies, and one of the pleasures is seeing the previews.  I hate missing the previews like I hate missing the beginning of any movie.  One movie I’m anticipating is Avatar.

When I first saw it, I thought, James Cameron stole my idea!  WTF Cameron?  How’d you hack into my PC?

As I watched the preview, his premise was different.  Similar but different.

Then an image sparked in my mind.  American Indians gazing out into the sea as English ships sailed toward them.

The story of the Native American Indians against pioneering pilgrims is a familiar one.  It’s empire building.  The conflict?  The natives don’t want to leave.

Look at Braveheart.  I love that movie.  It’s the same thing.

Look at the battle of Thermopile, 300.

Look at the Mongols invading China.

Look at China’s history of the seven independent states warring against each other for power.

Look at Star Wars.

Look at King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.

We have tons of stories based on the idea of oppression.  Sometimes the story ends with unification, like China and the seven states.  Sometimes we have stories of independence, like William Wallace’s fight for Scotland’s freedom.  But they all stem from a single idea.

Avatar is no different.  A powerful force, in this case us in the far future, wants something, a valuable mineral.  To mine it, we have to “politically” move a native race.  Easy enough.  But wait!  The native people don’t wanna move.

And the story begins.

Freeman said there were an unlimited amount of stories that could be told using the story computer.  Look at any story that you love or connect to.  Find a variation.

Turn the hero into a heroin.

Change the race.

Change the time.

Change the setting.

Change anything.

Look at Romeo and Juliet.  Change the time to the present.  Make the male a brooding, James Dean-looking vampire.  Now you have Twilight.

The Princess and the Frog is a great example.  What do we expect to happen when the princess kisses the frog?  The frog should turn to her prince.  But Disney was like, “Hell no. Dat’s been dun.  Da princess should turn to a frog, sucka!”

OK.  I doubt Disney execs would talk like that.  But they used the story computer to churn out what seems like a great story.

The Seven Provinces is a familiar story.  It’s about empire building.  It’s an underdog story.  It’s about a man trying to protect his family in a time of war.  It’s about oppression, betrayal, tragedy.  And much more.

There may be nothing new under the sun.  But that doesn’t mean new stories can’t be told using familiar themes.

Old fashioned martial arts schools are behind the times.

Recently in the past few weeks, people have asked why I think martial arts schools are behind the times.  Why I referred to the school I used to attend as crap in mybio.

Bruce Lee said it best:  ”Learn the principle, abide by the principle, and dissolve the principle. In short, enter a mold without being caged in it. Obey the principle without being bound by it.”

In earning my kinesiology degree, I learned something about human movement that not only undermined years of martial arts practice, but destroyed the basis of most martial art foundations.

Most schools teach by practicing patterns of movement.  There’s nothing wrong with this, but eventually people need to move past this mode of learning.

I remember learning how to write, doing lessons in workbooks.  One of them required me to follow dotted lines for each of the letters of the alphabet.  Once we graduated from that simple lesson, our class moved to copying simple sentences my teacher wrote on the blackboard.  Then she wrote simple paragraphs that we copied into our notebooks.  The paragraphs we copied got longer.  As we moved up the elementary school echelon, we were taught the structures of the three paragraph essay, then the five paragraph essay.  We were given subjects to write about and we wrote.  And so on and so forth.

Now, imagine teenagers in high school, or students in college being given homework, copying dotted letters of the alphabet.  That is what you have in the traditional martial arts school.

Have you seen old English calligraphy?  All those swirls, extra lines, and decorations?  How inefficient would that be in everyday writing?  A lot of that is in traditional martial arts, as well.

In our particular school, we always made fun of Tae Kwan Do students.  They limited themselves to kicking, and when sparring they didn’t allow striking to the head.  But one thing they did a lot was sparring.  Sparring is the key to truly learning anything.

Kinesiology taught me that people need to be in dynamic environments if they are to perform in dynamic environments.  If I taught you a martial arts technique to deal with a right punch, and I drilled that technique over and over again, all you would’ve learned was the technique.  What you wouldn’t know how to do is react to the right punch.  To do that, you can’t be told that a right punch is coming.  And sparring gives you that opportunity.

Yes, learn the technique.  Yes, practice the technique.  Then forget it.

The above quote by Bruce states exactly how I live my life.

When I first attempted my first three novels, I had no idea what I was doing.  Then my best friend suggested many sources that spoke on the structure and techniques of fiction writing.  I read them, attended seminars and learned so much.  But those lessons didn’t sink in until I sat down and wrote.  By the end of my many revisions and writing myepisodes,I had to go back and do one last revision/rewrite.  I’d changed so much as a writer that I had to do a line by line examination of my manuscript.

I didn’t want to at first.  I knew it would take a long time.  But once I dug in, I became more intimately engrossed with my story.  And something happened that was unexpected.  I fell in love with my story again.

I also realized that I’d broken some rules of writing.  I didn’t do it on purpose.  That’s just the way the story needed to be told.

Bruce Lee said:  ”Using no way as way, having no limitation as limitation.”  That has definitely worked out for him.

A couple of weeks ago I’d met up with a friend I hadn’t talked to for over a decade. He used to be an instructor at the martial arts school I’d taught at. Read about my opinions about that in my bio.

We’re both writers and we’d talked about writing the story that calls to us. With all the vampiric stories that are being churned both in the publishing and film industry, I don’t blame people for jumping on the band wagon.  But the point of being an artist is to express your soul.  And if your soul says write a vampire story, then write a vampire story.

When it comes to finding out what you want to do with your life, what story should be written, what path you should take, you need to be honest with yourself.  How do you be honest with yourself?

First of all, are you honest with other people? I’m not talking about being a saint, never telling lies, never doing anything wrong. Were human. But do you care about what other people say about you? Do care about what other people think about you? Do you put all your stock in your status in life?

Why is this important?

Because any of this, namely your ego, can block your true self.  You become motivated by the things that seem important–the size of your house, the German car in your massive garage, the name brand clothes you wear, the title of your job, bottled water.  Do these things matter?  That’s for you to decide.  Do they matter when it comes toexpressing yourself honestly? No.

When I went to the San Francisco Writers Conference, Richard Paul Evans, one of the keynote speakers said something that really hit home. Especially since he’s a New York Times bestselling author.  He said write your truth.  Don’t hop on the bandwagon. Don’t be a follower.  Lead by leading.

Bruce Lee said the same thing. Honestly express yourself.

Look at the things that you’re drawn to.  Do you love music?  Any particular kind?  Try that out.  Do you love software programming?  Try that out.  Do you love selling?  If you have an affinity for houses, maybe you should be a real estate agent.  Or if you love helping people get healthier, maybe you should try physical therapy, personal training, nursing.

Is there a common theme that runs throughout your life?

For me, I’ve always loved stories.  And I always loved fantasizing, putting myself in action movie roles, imagining what it would be like to be betrayed by a close friend, finding myself in a fantasy land where I’m a warlord.  Since my sophomore year, I’ve tried to write novels.  But when it came to deciding a major in college, I never thought of majoring in English or creative writing.  Why?  I’m not sure.  Maybe the things I had to go through as a person lent itself to writing the series of novels that I’m writing now.

I’m not angry about it.  Nor do I judge it.  I realize that I have stories to be told, and I’m telling them.