The Potter Books? Read.

Harry Potter, Books #1-#7
Harry Potter, Books 1-7
★★★★☆

In 1997 J.K. Rowling published the first Harry Potter book that opened her world, and our’s, to things so magically wonderful. Over the course of seven books, eight movies, action figures, and theme park rides, the Harry Potter franchise has touched every corner of the world. In 1997 my daughter was only four years old, but by the time 6th grade came around she had her nose in the Harry Potter books and she only came up long enough to eat, take a bath, and go to school. Not only did she read all seven books twice (I think she actually read them three times), she saw all the movies (I enjoyed them right along with her), and then she went to discovered everything at the Wizarding World in Universal Orlando, Florida.

Here it is 2015 and I am proud to say that I have finally read all the books, once. The height of the Potter furor has died down a little bit and I felt, well, it’s about time that I find out what all the excitement was about. So, over the course of about a month I read all seven epic books. As mentioned, I have seen all of the movies so while reading the books I already knew many of the big moments in the plot so I need to say that reading a book post movie is not really the best idea. Yet, there were many instances that I actually understood some things that the movie just couldn’t bring out. It is great to finally understand the game of Quidditch. In addition, the book brought aspects of the story to life that the movie just didn’t have the room to squeeze in (like Nearly Headless Nick’s Death Day Party).

I found it interesting how J.K. Rowling would keep most of the text simple and easy to read for the young crowd she was writing for, yet the reader was respectfully challenged with higher levels of vocabulary and ideas.The progression of each book also grew more mature thematically allowing the reader to grow right along with Harry and his friends who not only developed as growing teens, but as people who were faced with horrendous choices in impossible situations.

Overall I loved this entire series of books. Although written to a young audience the Harry Potter series welcomes readers of all ages. The only fault, if one could be found, is the stretches that are just plain long. I found myself skipping over sections that were either repetitive (the obligatory restating of things early on in each book), or they just kept going on and on bringing the story progression to a stop. Thankfully these were just in a few places and the pace picked right back up. If you have not yet read this series of books then I think it is time you do. J.K. Rowling takes you into a magical world that, on the last page, you truly hate to leave.

 

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When a Character Dies

A few weeks ago my husband and I watched Guardians of the Galaxy which is a slap stick sort of movie about a man who is determined to be a hero and save the universe, no matter what. The movie itself was light, and between fights, explosions, and narrow escapes the hero, Peter Quill, struggles with his past. (**WARNING** there are spoilers in this post).

In the opening scene, Peter Quill is a young boy in a hospital room with his dying mother. It is his birthday. She beckons him to come closer to give him his gift. Through his father’s encouragement he does take it but cannot open it before she dies. He runs from the hospital distraught. In the next scene he is a grown man fighting the evil forces of the universe still carrying his unopened birthday gift in his go-bag.

What is it about this opening scene that has me in a bit of a twist? The dying mother. Why? As writers, some of us feel this need to have a person die in our stories and, in general, that is ok. It adds tension, emotion, action, a plot twist, but as writers are we all thinking about how this could effect our readers? Do we write in a death without considering what that death might mean to someone outside of the characters in the story?

Early in November I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It hit me like a blizzard of boulders. Every emotion, thought, and feeling about cancer lead me to death’s door. The inner anxiety was deeply palatable. “Will I see my children grow? Will I see my son become a renowned musician? Will I read my daughter’s first published book? I’m going to die! No, I’m not going to die! I can’t die! I’m not ready to die!” On and on this inner dialog went, unrelentingly frightening. Now, it is March and I am more than half way through chemo treatments, awaiting surgery and radiation therapy, yet the inner voices have calmed down and I know I will remain among the living for many years to come.

In the opening scene of the dying mother in Guardians of the Galaxy she has cancer. She bore the ultimate symbol of a cancer patient, baldness. This scene was so quick, yet it hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting. That could be me.  I have cancer and seeing a scene of someone dying from cancer was very unsettling. All of those emotions came rolling over me again and I asked myself, “Why couldn’t she have died in a car accident instead?” Yet, if she had died in a car accident, wouldn’t it hit someone else the same way and then they would have asked, “Why couldn’t she have died from cancer?”

My point is to ask you, the writer, to be aware of your reader and what tragedies may have touched their lives. When you add a scene of a dying mother, father, son, or best friend, be sure to consider the scene carefully. Think of your reader who may have stood by as their father tragically slipped away from Alzheimer’s, or a mother who lost the battle with breast cancer as her children helplessly watched. Bear in mind the pain and suffering that a loss brings in the real world, then when a character dies in your story give consideration to that death. Recognize that your character may have had a family, and give homage to their loss in some way. Peter Quill came to grips with his mother’s death and finally, after many years, opened his birthday present from her. By doing this the screen, the writers brought his mother’s death to a gentle and loving close. They honored not only the character, but the audience as well.

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Vessel

VesselVessel by Andrew J. Morgan
★★☆☆☆
A strange vessel floats in orbit with the International Space Station. Things go into overdrive when communications with the station is lost. Sally Fisher, a SETI scientist and communications expert, is sent on an emergency mission to the space station to trouble shoot the problems. Meanwhile, on the ground, a feisty reporter, Sean Jacob, gets a tip that something isn’t quite right with ISS and starts to dig in places he shouldn’t. The reader is taken on a ride through this thriller with a great twist at the end.

Vessel, by Andrew Morgan, is a great story that is severely hurt by poor editing. It is one of those books that I’m frustrated that it made it to me (and all of the author’s fans) before it was fully edited. A good editor would have taken this adjective riddled story and tightened it into a great thriller that would have put me on the edge. Unfortunately, I had to drag myself through the wordy quagmire to get to the end.

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The Paper Magician

The Paper Magician (The Paper Magician Trilogy, #1)The Paper Magician by Charlie N. Holmberg
★★★★★
Ceony Twill dreams of being a smelter magician, yet her desires are thwarted by her assignment to the eccentric Paper Magician Emery Thanes. Her apprenticeship to a paper magician initially seems like an insult to her. After all, she was the top student in her graduating class so she should have been given her choice of any apprenticeship. She soon learns that there is more to being a paper magician than just making perfect folds.

This common story of magic, both light and dark, is presented in a fresh new way. Charlie N. Holmberg does borrow themes from other tales (magic schools are not a new idea), but she presents these in a way that feels new and inventive. It is a fun, fresh book for readers of any age.

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Crossing the Yampa

Since November I have not written one word. It has been a dry spell to say the least. Then I received an email  from Chuck Wendig’s blog with a flash fiction challenge. Just the kick in the pants I needed to write something….anything.

Finding a subject was a simple matter of choosing two arbitrary numbers from 1 to 20 and use those two numbers to match to two subject lists then write a flash fiction piece of less than 2,000 words. So, from the two lists I got Extraterrestrial and Wild West.

____________________ Crossing the Yampa _________________

The wagon train had left her station hours ago. She had worked through the rest of the day cleaning the horse dung and the human stench from the walls. Once a month they came through, sometimes twice in a month, and Margo never got used to it. The humans had a smell about them that reminded her of the dead rats she found in the barn sometimes.

Satisfied, she went back upstairs then out the window to sit on the roof. This is where she spent most of her time staring into the sky wishing for home. In the years spent in the southern hemisphere she could see her home cluster in the night sky, but here in the north she could only see the local sun. Only ten more years and she could go back south. Ten more years of being in this dust bowl serving the wagon trains that kept pushing to the west carrying those petty humans into the frontier.

Stirring out of her own mind she turned to go back inside. Mid-stride Margo met the blunt end of a shotgun in the gut. “Hello Margo. Been a long time wouldn’t you say?”

“Kate. What in tarnation are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“You are a slippery one Margo. I’ve been hunting you for the past couple of centuries. I have to admit you found yourself one hell of a place to hide. How did you find this dump anyway?”

Pushing past her, Margo went back through the window. “Believe it or not, I crashed here. Been stranded for at least a couple hundred years.”

“Come on Margo. You can’t expect me to believe that you, our top pilot, crashed on this rock. You’ll need a better excuse than that.”

“You know me Kate. Weird shit happens.”

“Weird shit my ass. Is that your excuse for the string of dead bodies you left all over the home cluster? Is that your excuse for decimating Corkerelle? Give me a break.”

Margo couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. “You have no idea do you Kate? You have spent all this time looking for me and never stopped to wonder if it was really me? Wake up Kate. Look around you. What do you see?”

“What are you talking about Margo?”

“I’ve been here for eons watching these humans scrape across their globe. They drag their sorry souls over the land and darken every corner of it. Right now, they drive their wagon trains out west in a thirst for riches and in their wake; they leave only a stench and rot. Did you smell the trash heap on your way in? Did you see what they do? Doesn’t it look even a little familiar? How long ago did Corkerelle happen? Think about it Kate, could I, one solitary being really destroy an entire planet? Think back, Kate. Remember what it smelled like?”

The shotgun began to weigh more than Kate remembered when she first pointed it at Margo. “They came here, didn’t they? They came here to do it all over again didn’t they?”

“Oh, they’ll try alright, but there will be bloody hell to pay before they can cross the Yampa.”

*****

The humans had celebrated that night once they arrived at the edge of the Yampa. It had been a long trek across the eastern plains and everyone was ready for fresh water and time to dance. They had made it. Living to see the Yampa River was all they had prayed for and here they were. Couples clapped and danced to the fiddler’s tune late into the night.

The warmth of the rising sun pushed the gentle breeze through the camp. The air licked at the canvas capes that draped each wagon ruffling the bare threads. The horses had long left the area along with the cattle. A few stray dogs were all that remained behind. A breeze carried the echoes from the night’s celebration leaving silence in its place.

Iron from the wagons took the longest to disassemble, after the humans. It was in their coding to tend to the biomasses first then the iron and other non-living items brought by the humans. The bots did their job then marched back into the water and waited. The next wagon train was due in just a week. They needed time to recharge.

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Fairest: A Good Read

Fairest: Levana's Story (The Lunar Chronicles)Fairest: Levana’s Story by Marissa Meyer

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Fairest, the next installment in The Lunar Chronicals delves deep into the backstory of Levana and the royal family of Luna. Meyer develops Levana’s tragic life in such a way that I was sympathetic to her plight. Her evil rule is well established throughout the series so this installment is somewhat predictable in that Levana would always make the bad choice when life gave her the option between good and evil.

Fairest does step away from the story line of the three previous books which I found a little distracting. I wanted the story rather than the history, yet it is a really good read. Lots of tension to keep the pages turning. Once I started I couldn’t put it down.

I wonder, does Winter (the final installment in The Lunar Chronicles) need Fairest to bring Cinder’s adventure to a conclusion? I look forward to finding out!

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A Beautiful Story

The Shell CollectorThe Shell Collector by Hugh Howey
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Hugh Howey has out done himself in this beautifully written book that explores the depth of love and passion to save a world that has lost so much. The Shell Collector is an exploration of great loss that leads to redemption. Howey takes the reader on an ocean voyage in prose that will sweep you into the storm and lift you over the sea.  The story will end at the last word, yet the journey will continue on in your heart.

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The Distracted Life

Do you lead a distracted life? You know, that’s when you bounce around like a ping pong ball in small room? You are hyper focused? Well, that’s awesome. If you are hyper focused let me take you on a quick tour of the distracted mind and you will see how lucky you are to be able to sit for hours on end working on a single project without interruption.

I was heading up for a shower. Stopping in the bedroom I dug into my dresser for the clothes I’d be wearing. My husband wandered in asking me to repair a hand brace for him. No worries, I could take care of that right after my shower. Heading into the bathroom I got the heater set up and realized I had left my leg warmers in the laundry room. I have raynauds in both legs so keeping them warm is essential to a pain free life.

The leg warmers were dry and hanging next to the dryer which was close enough to being done so I emptied the dryer, folded the clothes and loaded the next batch of wet things. I left the laundry and on my way past the perpetual calendar I remembered that there had been updates to my work schedule and with the busy holiday season looming in the next couple of weeks I better get that on the calendar. Oh, and my son’s school schedule needs to get on there too.

Next my digital calendar needed to be updated when I realized that there were some conflicts so I went back and changed the perpetual calendar.  Back at my computer my digital calendar was updated, but I noticed no one had replied to my request for coverage at work for this week. I have to have two lumps biopsied tomorrow (yes, this lingers on my mind from my last post on breast lumps). Sitting back down I shoot off several emails nudging people out in the greeting card world that I have three stores that need coverage, who can help?

Another few things have been checked off my list so I head upstairs to take my shower. Back in the bathroom I realize that my leg warmers are still down in the laundry room. Back downstairs, into the laundry room there they sit neatly folded on top of the dryer. Then back upstairs into the warmth of a shower. My progress, such as it is, winds through my mind when I get hit with, “What if it’s cancer?” and I proceed to have a good five minutes of crying while standing in a steamy stream of water.

Stepping out of the shower I find there is a little bit of dirt left in the bottom of the tub from when my daughter had a soak last night. Grabbing a paper towel I try to wipe it out, but it seems I’ll need water. Nope. Need something stronger. In my towel I climb into the over-sized tub and scrub the bottom of the tub then get clean water to rinse to scouring powder off. Back out of the tub and dried and dressed I realize that my venture to take a shower took nearly two hours.

It is exhausting to have a distracted mind and if I had a penny for every added hour of time spent bouncing from one side of the room to another I would have a very large sum of money. Quite possibly I could afford therapy for my crazy way of getting through the day. Now, where’s the needle and thread? I’ve gotta get this hand brace repaired.

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J.T. Evans

jt-evans-headshot

J.T. Evans stopped by to chat with us about his writing life and how he gets it all done.

KJ ~~ Tell us a little bit about yourself.
J.T. ~~ My Day Job is working as a lead software engineer on a set of international web sites that facilitate the purchase of training courses for other technical people. The nitty-gritty details are somewhat boring, so I’ll leave it up to your imagination as to what “exciting” things I get to do. The upside is that work takes me to Paris for meetings every so often. I live just outside Monument, Colorado with my wife of 16 years and my seven-year-old son. I do my best to treat writing as a profession, so I rarely (if ever) list it under “hobbies” anymore. This means my hobbies are Cub Scouts with my son, playing card/board/role-playing games, and watching hockey (I used to play).

KJ ~~ What are you working on right now?
J.T. ~~ I’m currently working on writing an urban fantasy novel while submitting some short stories to various markets. The novel is about an immortal Roman Centurion living in modern San Antonio, Texas. He works for The Ancients as a bounty hunter while searching for clues into his father’s mysterious disappearance almost two-thousand years ago. I’m hoping to make it into a series, but I’m just now starting chapter 4 of the first book. I hope to be somewhere in the late-teens in chapter count by the end of the month, done with the book by the start of February, and edit it in time for the 2015 Pikes Peak Writers Conference. It’s a hectic schedule, but I think I can pull it off.

KJ ~~ I see on your website that you have published a number of flash fiction pieces along with several short stories. For you, how does this differ than writing a novel (besides the fact that a novel probably takes a boatload more time)?
J.T. ~~ Besides the time commitment, it’s a matter of accuracy with words. Basically, it goes like this. Novels are words. Short stories are the right words. Flash fiction (and poetry) pieces are the right words in the right place. This is all probably gross oversimplification, but that’s how I approach things. If I have a powerful word with depth of meaning, I’ll use it once in a flash piece, maybe twice in a short story, and no more than once per chapter in a novel. In flash fiction, I try to use as many “kick in the gut” words as possible to amp up the pressure of the story in such a short time, but I can’t repeat those words. I also only try to explore one character, one concept, and one setting. No more than one of each of those. In short stories, I’m allowed a few more characters, but no more than two (maybe three) main characters. I also try to keep my short stories down to one setting, and around two concepts. This keeps my word count down. With novels, I let it all fly! I love world building, so that’s where my novels come into play. I get to explore (in depth and breadth) many aspects of the world through the characters’ explorations of the world.

KJ ~~You are a father, a husband, a technoguru, President of Pikes Peak writers, and a writer. How do you squeeze it all in?
J.T. ~~ There are a few factors going into play here. I have a great amount of personal discipline. It’s rare for me to waste a minute while I’m awake on something that’s not productive, but I do still schedule downtime. This prevents me from burning out. My downtime usually involves a quick TV show, reading while eating lunch, or playing with my son. Another thing that works well for me is that my corpus callosum (the bridge between the two halves of the brain) did not form properly in utero. This doesn’t impair my ability to think or act, and it has gifted with ambidexterity, and the ability to quickly shift from logical thinking (my Day Job and running Pikes Peak Writers) to creative thinking (writing). Lastly, I’ve been diagnosed with a rare mental oddity called “hyperfocus.” It’s basically the opposite of ADHD. It’s incredibly useful to be able to focus solely on my work despite being in chaotic surroundings (like at a loud coffee shop). There are some downsides to the hyperfocus, though. When I’m on a strong roll of writing, it’ll last long enough that I’ll forget to eat or take care of my body.

KJ ~~ What does a typical writing day look like for you?
J.T. ~~ For me, writing tends to happen on weekends or late in the evening. I’ll tend to wait until my son goes down for the night. At that point, I’ll stay up late and crank out some words. My peak “brain activity” hours are generally from 8PM until about 4AM. I wish I could stay up until 4AM every day, but that pesky Day Job requires me to be out the door by around 8AM each day to make it on time. On the weekends, I tend to write quite a bit on Saturdays since that is “my day” to be kid-free and do as I please. My family is generally gone Sunday mornings as well, so I’ll continue my work on that day until they get home. At that point, my wife will run about town on “her day,” and I’ll spend some good time with my son.

KJ ~~ Do you have strategies for getting past those days that are hard to write?
J.T. ~~ I’ve never had “writer’s block.” I have had scenes that I didn’t want to tackle because they made me uncomfortable to write. It could be a tender moment, something incredibly emotional, something complex in the physical realm, and so on. At this point, I’ll flip from the creative side of things to the logical and look at it from the new viewpoint. I’ll ask, “Why am I uncomfortable with this?” Once I’ve dissected the problem, I find the nugget of truth in there somewhere. Then I approach the scene from that angle and it works out well.

KJ ~~ What books or authors have influenced you the most and why?
J.T. ~~ The list is lengthy, but I’ll stick to the high points. Terry Brooks, Dennis L. McKiernan, Raymond E. Feist, Lawrence Watt-Evans, and Anne McCaffrey are high on my list because of their incredible world-building skills. However, they manage to drag out wonderful character moments from the world regardless of what is going on. This fine balance is why they make my list. I also love building new worlds in my own way, so learning lessons from these fine masters is something I strive to do.

Carol Berg, Jim Butcher, C.S. Lewis, Ursula K. Le Guin, Brent Weeks, Roger Zelazny, Saladin Ahmed, Jane Yolen, and Robert Asprin also hit the high spots on my list because of the true, raw, emotional, powerful, and exciting characters they create. However, these characters do not exist in a vacuum, so there is some world building in there as well. I aspire to create fictional people that give the reader an emotional roller coaster ride, so these are always on my shelf.

KJ ~~What are your favorite books that you have read simply for pleasure?
J.T. ~~ Interestingly, the author of my favorite book didn’t make the above list. It could be that he has not produced as much as the others. My #1 book of all time is The Long Run by Daniel Keys Moran. The characters in this futuristic, broken world are true. Not only true to themselves, but true to the world. It’s just an amazing piece of fiction. The things I tend to read for pleasure fall firmly in the fantasy and urban fantasy realms. I do branch out and read a bit of science fiction and horror, though. I rarely pick up anything else because my time is so precious to me. I just don’t know if I’d enjoy other things. I might, but I don’t know. This leads me to stick to the things I know.

KJ ~~ If you took a two-week vacation in any book or story, where would you go and who would you be?
J.T. ~~ Most of the places I read about in fiction are horrific places! Marauding orcs, horrible demons, power-hungry fae, and constant warfare tend to be the fare of what I read. I don’t want to visit any of those places at all. If I had to pick a place, it would be the multiverse that Skeeve and Aahz (and their troupe of friends) live in in the “Myth” series by Robert Asprin. There’s plenty of zany antics going on, and it all seems like so much fun.

Website: http://jtevans.net/
Twitter: @jtevans
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jtevans.writer

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Dread in the Dark

It was three in the morning as I lay in bed staring at the dark ceiling. It is a regular routine for me to  be awake at that ridiculous hour. I followed my usual habit of laying there staring at the ceiling for about twenty minutes then getting up and wandering through the quiet house, eating some yogurt or a granola bar. Then head back up, taking an herb my husband keeps on hand to relax the mind, and fall back into bed hoping for sleep.

This particular night was the same. Nothing new. Nothing different. I was just laying there listening to the creek drifting out of my sound machine next to the bed. Then I felt it. It was a small pain that ran in my left chest and I reached with my right hand to give it a rub. You know how a  quick massage can chase away those little mysterious pains that invade our bodies? That’s what this was. Just a mysterious little twinge.

There it was. I felt it. The dreaded lump. The one every woman quietly worries over throughout her life. Like Mount Everest it seemed to leap from my breast in its vastness. My breathing stopped. I’m sure my eyes must have dilated and I honestly think my heart leaped into the next room. Then something kicked in upstairs and I fell into a full blown state of panic. Within thirty seconds I had run the gamut of dying tomorrow to the whole thing being a cruel trick of my imagination. Quickly I did a double, then triple, then quadruple check. Yep. It’s there. Bigger than life, or possibly even death itself, a lump. I was panting. My heart thrummed in my ears while my body vibrated with out of control nerves.

As the horrific scenarios rolled through my mind an idea formed on the outskirts of the disaster.  I needed information and I needed it now. It was four ante meridiem, and the doctor’s office wouldn’t open for several more hours. For once in my life I was thankful for the internet. I have heard that it is the worst place to go for information about medical issues, but this was one instance I didn’t care. I combed websites for any little clue as to what I had and after nearly three hours I came away feeling a little less panicked. The reel of my life stopped running in fast forward. I could postpone calling an ambulance and wait the hour left to call my doctor for an appointment.

I did get in to see my doc and he is quite sure it is a cyst that has accumulated fluid around it (thus the size of Mt. Everest). He is in the ninetieth percentile of surety. It is that last ten percent that keeps me on edge. I am constantly tempted to get back on my computer to learn about that other ten percent, but I have resisted the urge. The internet contains vast amounts of information on everything related to breasts whether they hang from a woman or a man. There are hundreds of thousands of links that are filled with the good, the bad, and the misinformed. Since I found “Mt. Everest” three days ago I have mostly ignored the internet. It is just too much information. I am working to stay on the normal side of insanity. I have tests coming up soon that will give me the answers that I need. Until then, I have resolved not to let this sap my life away. Why let it? If I fall into the category with cancer then I will do what I have done all my life…cross that bridge if I come to it.

 

*Post publication note: As it turns out this was breast cancer. You can read my story under the cancer tab.

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Filed under Arbitrary Thoughts, Breast Cancer, My Cancer Story