Excerpts, Short Stories and More: II

The Box (con't)

by; R. Richardsson

The flames greedily sucked at the end of the torch, quickly consuming what precious little fuel was available to them.  As the companions prepared for the battle that lay ahead, the flames crackled and sizzled, one element symbolically overpowering the other.

Elladuer sat upon a large stone, his sword laying across his legs.  In one hand he held a small bottle, inside of which is a glowing light blue substance.  Reverently, he removed the stopper and tipped a little of the liquid onto the small cloth in his other hand.  Softly, as to not disturb the spell casting of the sorcerer, he begins to apply the glowing substance to the blade of his longsword.  

"What is that you're putting on there," Joeshan asks curiously.  Unbeknownst to the warrior, his halfling companion had been raptly watching his every action.

"It's an oil that has been harvested from a frozen merman.  It's said that the oil is so cold that it will inflict twice as much pain to creatures born of fire." 

He looks thoughtfully at the blade of his weapon which has now taken on the hue from the oil.

"Elladuer?"

"Yes my friend?"

"I'm more than content with the promise of riches that we'll gain in the spoils, the gods know that I shall never want again, but I have to know something..."

There was a pregnant pause while Joeshan looked to the hourglass, and during this time more oil was massaged into the blade of the longsword.  At the edge of the makeshift camp, Oramiir chanted softly, his fingers tracing glowing sigils into the air.

"Why is this box so important to your King's campaign?  Isn't it supposed to be an evil artifact?"

As Elladuer wrestled with the answer to his question, Oramiir's voice rose to uncomfortably loud levels.  His hands deftly created a small squadron of glowing sigils, all of which hovered in the air between them.  Their attention caught for the moment, they watched as he grabbed onto each arcane writing and flung them to various positions around them.  They watched in wonder, frozen by the spectacle before them, as the sorcerer then drew a small blade from his belt and before they could protect, sliced a large groove into his palm.  The sigils flared with power around them as he flung droplets of his blood in their direction, shouting a command to each.  With each command, the sigil would glow blindingly for several seconds before vanishing.  

At the end of his ritual, a crimson dome appeared around them, momentarily obstructing the view of anything outside of their small camp, and then vanished.

"That should help protect us, as long as you stay within the boundaries of the spell," Oramiir quietly iterated.  "It should last the entire battle, so mind where you are.  I've centered the spell on all three of us..."

"You mean, we each have this protection," Joeshan asked timidly.

"Yes, it's weaker individually, so mind where you are.  When we are together, the wyrm's magic should only have minor affects on us."

As the sorcerer began putting his components and his spellbook away, Elladuer also finished his preparations.

"You wanted to know about the box, little one?"  

The question forgotten, Joeshan found himself startled when Oramiir spoke.

"Y-yes, I guess I do.  I mean, I've always heard about the box.  The stories were told countless times to my brothers and I as we were growing up and it just doesn't seem like it could be real."

Oramiir looked thoughtfully at the hourglass, now just a little over half full...or half empty, depending on how one was looking at it.  In this case, and with what lay ahead, the latter seemed to be more appropriate, he surmised.

"Several hundred years ago the plains beyond the Northern Pass ran red with the blood of the innocent.  It was a dark time; a time when the gods had abandoned their peoples.  For every creature of good, there were six of 'his'."

"You mean...?"

"Yes, the Lich King Necrodemus."  At the mention of the foul name, Elladuer quickly makes a gesture to ward against evil and utters a soft prayer, while at the same time, a shiver travels down Joeshan's spine.

"It was a time when hope was something one dreamed about and faith had to be created, rather than maintained.  There were few heroes left during that time and it was their studious dedication that brought an army against him.  However, it was at a price.  Of the thousands whom stood in battle, only dozens walked away."

"That's horrible...  Why so few?  How could there be so much devastation?"

This time it was Elladuer who answered the question.

"What too few know these days, is that the Lich King had ascended to godhood.  In the absence of the other gods, whom some say he had slain, he took claim of their pantheon and their immortality.  By the time the war had begun, there was only one way to defeat him.  Two brave heroes, a Dwarf and a Drow warrior stood before him with a secret of their own.  You see...they had faced against him in the three wars that proceeded this final apocalyptic one.  They knew his secrets.  They had already felt the sting of his magic and they held the key to defeating him."

"But how to kill a god," Oramiir mused with a light smile curving the side of his mouth upward.

"Ah, but that's another story as well.  The Drow had become a collector of sorts.  Over the course of his journeys, it is said that some of the old gods had spoken to him and given him a most holy duty.  Whether or not that is true is not for any of us to say, but what IS true is that he, with the aid of some of the most powerful wizards of that time, created a magical building to house the things that he collected.  A museum, if you will.  In it were some of the most evil devices, the most powerful magical items and the most powerful of artifacts, all locked away inside of this safehouse which existed in several planes at once."

"But how does that explain..."

Oramiir chuckled softly, sadly, and when Elladuer didn't answer, he offered the final conclusion.

"The only way to kill a god is to remove from it its immortality.  To do that..."

"To do that, you have to destroy a very powerful artifact of opposite alignment to the god in question," Elladuer concluded.

"I know not which one it would have been, but history tells us of what was left from the resulting explosion.  While the heroes and the Lich King had survived the blast, those others who were closest to it were either wiped from existence or horribly changed forever into something unlike anything anyone has ever seen."

"And the box?  Where does that come in?"

Elladuer sighs softly and slides his sword into its scabbard.

"From the battle that ensued between the two remaining forces.  Both sides traded blows, each more devastating then the last and they remained locked in battle for days.  Several of the heroes fell, but so too did the generals of the Lich King.  In the end, only a handful of heroes remained and it was only by destroying the fetter of the Lich that they were able to win.  Their enemy turned instantly to dust, falling to a pile at their feet with only the skull remaining.  In the skull, one eyeball somehow remained intact and impossibly alive, turning madly about as if searching for a path to escape."

Joeshan gasped in horror and trembled at the thought, looking over to the sorcerer for confirmation.  The latter only nodded as he finished wrapping his hand with a bandage.

"You mean it was still alive?!"

"Yes, and no.  His soul had forever been released from our plane, that much is true.  However, enough of his essence and malignant force remained in that one eye to effectively and forever corrupt those who touched it as well as give the bearer the powers of the eye's former master.  Much deliberation would come of what to do with this eye; the Dwarf wanted to crush it beneath his boot but the Drow insisted that the eye go into his Museum for safekeeping.  They argued for months over what to do with it until finally the Dwarf had had enough and forever parted ways with his friend."

Oramiir softly cleared his throat, signalling their attention as Elladuer paused.

"We must prepare now, the sands have nearly drained.  When they all reach the bottom, the final spell will be in place!"

The companions nodded and each began gathering their belongings together.

"So then, what did the Drow do?"

"History hides most of what happens next, only that it was nearly a century later before the he would again be seen.  It is written that a shrouded figure would appear before a small group of dwarven craftsmen, asking for an impossible task.  He had wanted a box that could be seen into, but not out of and it was only to be big enough to contain a small rock.  Naturally, the dwarves thought he was mad and were quick to turn him away, but it was an offer that he made which quickly changed their minds.  Mad or not, when he laid before them a magical pouch containing a dragon's treasure, they took to their work very seriously."

"Wait...  Are you saying..."

"Yes Joeshan, we have come here today because this is the resting place of the eye of the Lich King, Necrodemus and Malifgorranaka the Great Flame is its guardian."

This is it for now.  If you like my writing, please watch for the final publication of this story in the future, which will be announced on my Facebook page.  Also, you can check out my novella; "The Rise and Fall of John Rizzerio" on Nook, Kindle, Smashwords.com and Lulu.com today!

As mentioned before, my blog excerpts, stories and more only receive a light edit.  I'll go over them more thoroughly when I have put the story fully together and you'll get a more complete version after publication.  :)

Excerpts, Short Stories and More: I

The Box

by; R. Richardsson

Oily black smoke from the torch floated lazily against the rock, pooling beneath the ceiling of the narrow passage and stinging the eyes of the adventurers traveling below.  The air is warm and fetid, and except for the occasional lazy gust it sat thick and almost malleable around them.

"We've got to be close now...right?"

Of the three companions, the first to speak is the smallest and most out of place.  He is portly, easily weighing over three stones and only at thirty-nine inches tall he looks like he would be more comfortable sitting before a fire with a book in his hands and a warm meal on his lap.  He is wearing a dark blue tunic, over which is a fashionable, if functional, leather chestplate.  Strapped on his hip, a small jewel encrusted dagger and several small pouches.  Just below his maroon breeches, his hairy feet are naked and appear the most vulnerable of the companions.

"We should almost be there my friend," answers the most formidable of the three.

At seventy-eight inches and over twenty stones, one would be hard pressed to stand fairly against this warrior.  If every inch of his body wasn't covered in thick and heavily enchanted steel, the first thing you would notice would be his excellent physique.  His armor, the full plate of the royal guard, shines even in these dark tunnels of the deep, a reflection of his pure heart.  Covering every inch of the rare armor are elven runes and glyphs of enchantment, some which were scribed for the very purpose which was the object of their quest.  On his left arm is a large kite shield, the herald of which is a Gryphon bearing an elven rider.  The image depicted the rider soaring in the clouds with a floating castle in the background.  Only those in the royal guard could possess the herald of the Gryphon Riders of King Altherak, High Elf Lord of the Elven Kingdoms.

The final member of the party, who had been standing silently out of the range of the torch's light, silently steps from the shadows.  Unlike the others, he is slender for his sixty-two inch height, weighing six and a half stone.  He is enshrouded in grey robes, most common to the Mystics of the Mountain far in the north and his slender hands are wrapped around a large oaken staff which stands a head taller than he.  Hanging from the top of the staff are various feathers, a small brown pouch and  two thin leather straps with animal bones tied into them.  The cowl of his robe is pulled low and only his chin is visible under the shadow it produces.

"We must pause here, that I may call to the Gods for protection."  

His voice is deceptively deep for his frame, though not unpleasantly so.  It carries in it the power that he has channeled through it all of his life and is smooth and pleasant to listen to.

"H-how long will it take, Oramiir?," the halfling asked nervously.  

"I will need the time that it takes for this hourglass to pass the sands through its portal," he sighed softly.  

As he spoke, he produced a small hourglass from his robes, held it to his lips and whispered softly before releasing it to float just inches before him.  Behind the glass, the sands began to slowly trickle, one grain at a time, to their resting place below.  As the others made themselves comfortable, he reached a magical pouch which he hung around his neck, and pulled a small leather tome from it.

"Fear not Joeshan, for what I must do will not disturb 'its' slumber before we arrive."

As he began reading from the tome, chanting softly to himself and occasionally gesturing towards each of them, the warrior handed his torch to Joeshan and then lifted the visor on his helm before taking a drink from his wineskin. Like most of his elven brethren, the face is angular with pronounced cheekbones.  Moist with sweat, his golden locks hang limply over his pointed ears, though one would have to be standing directly in front of him to notice this.  His eyes are the color of life, as green as the leaves of his nation's tree, and yet full of sadness.

Joeshan reaches over with his free hand and pats his arm in a gesture meant to comfort him, though to an outsider looking in would look completely ridiculous due to their height difference.  

"Just think...  At the end of the day, I'll be warming my toes before my hearth and you'll be getting the scales fitted for your new armor."

Elladuer nodded silently, his eyes directed toward their destination.

"Tell me Joeshan; have you thought about what lies ahead?"

He turned to his small friend, studying the reaction to his question as he waited for an answer he already knew

"I-I have not, other than we will go in to 'it's' lair and do battle.  I know that you will stand before it while I sneak around for a silent attack.  During this time, Oramiir will be casting damage spells that will directly, as well as indirectly help us."

Elladuer nodded impatiently and waved for him to go on, but the halfling only looked at him with confusion.

"There is something more important at stake here than our own needs and desires my friend," he began slowly.  As he spoke, he turned his head once again toward the direction they were travelling, but not before Joeshan noticed the profound sadness that had seemed to well up in his voice and leak from the corners of his almond shaped eyes.

"This day we are stepping into the lair of a proud and majestic creature that has been around longer than either of your peoples.  It has seen kingdoms rise and fall.  Beneath its crimson wings, it has felt the smoldering heat reflected from the deserts to the south.  It has glided up on the crisp frozen air above the plains far to the north.  It has crushed villages in its youth and slain heroes with more renown than you or I.  This day, we stand before 'Malifgorranaka the Great Flame' and may the Gods grant us favor before it."

The halfling trembled in fear, unconsciously moving closer to his bigger friend, and glanced over to the floating hourglass.  The sands still tumbled into their new location, each grain adding to the small pile that was forming at the bottom.

"Not long now," Elladuer spoke softly.

This is the beginning of a short story that was inspired by a picture shared on my Facebook by my friend Louis Pecsi.  I will post a bit more to this in the future and I promise you won't want to miss it!  All work posted here has received a light edit, but it yet unfinished.  If you find an error, it's only the flavor that makes this more fun!  :)  

Well Duh, Isn't It Obvious?

By now, you've probably got a pretty good feel for what to expect out of my blogs.  I tend to talk a lot about the things that are going on in my life, or about the things that are around me.  You've seen me get excited, you've seen me get a little foul and you've heard me tell it like it is.

Am I right?

Sure, why not.  Let's just agree to disagree and move along, right?

I've been trying to think of something productive to do with my writing...er, my spare writing, that will help get my work noticed.

What's that you ask?  What do I mean by 'spare' writing?

Okay, well let me clear that little twist of terminology up for you real quick then.  It's not like I have a bunch of work laying around just collecting dust or anything.  Well, okay, I take that back.  I do have almost half a dozen short stories that I've been working on, which are finished, but those are spoken for.  No, what I mean by 'spare writing', are the excerpts from other stories or other, smaller bodies of work that don't fit in with what I'm doing at the moment.

They could even be something that's specially tailored for what I have in mind.

So..

What is it that I have in mind?

I was thinking of putting something, much what like I just described, right here in these blogs!

By now you already know that I'm using this (blog) as a medium to hone my writing skills.  In the very least I want to keep in practice between stories.  Yeah, yeah...  You know that already.  And why not?  I've mentioned it at least once in every blog post thus far.

So...  What do you think?  Does this sound like a good idea?

Yeah, me too.

Now, I do still plan on using this blog as I have been up to this point...  There WILL be times when I have something on my mind and I need to vent, so you can expect those to pop up every now again again.

Tell you what...  I'll make it easy on you.  When I'm writing fiction here, I'll do it something like this;

A Tale to Tell

By; R. Richardsson

     Once upon a time, in a blog far, far away.  There was a writer who told it like it was.  Every few days, and sometimes even as far as a week apart, he would make a lengthy post containing various thoughts and ideals.  He never wrote on the blog regularly, as his schedule didn't often allow enough time for him to, but when he did, the posts were written with the same care that he would show his first drafts.

     One day, while promoting his book on Twitter and working on an outline for a short story, he came up with an idea that would get his work recognized by curious readers for free.  He became obsessed with the idea.  It was a good idea, you see, and he knew that if he played his cards right, he would be able to draw attention to his already published work.
     So he finished his outline, he tweeted his last tweet and he went to his blog, where he began to writing a post about his brilliant idea.  Would it pan out?  Would his reader(s) love his idea?  Only time will tell this tale.


So tell me; what do you think?  Obviously, the mock story I just shared with you is a bit short, but I think it was enough to give you a good idea, right?  When inspiration strikes, or if I pull bits out of my already complete work, I thought that I might just share them here as a blog post!

This is, after all, my own little world where I can work on improving my work, so, why not just make it an author blog and call it a day?

Sure, why not indeed.

There you have it then, case closed.  From here on out I'll be peppering this blog with various bits of fiction, fantasy and the horror fiction that I have already worked with in 'The Rise and Fall of John Rizzerio'.  

Will there be foul language?  Sure.  Some of my more graphic work contains foul language.  What about graphic violence?  Yep.  I'm totally going to get into that as well.  This isn't to say that all of my work will contain this more adult oriented material.  I'm currently in the process of expanding my skills as a writer by exploring more diverse ways of telling my tales.  After all, I can't always write for just one audience, right?

(Well, maybe if my foray into horror fiction really takes off I can, but I'm not buttering my bread just yet on that one.)

Why then, didn't I think of this before?  I mean; "Duh!  Isn't it obvious?"  I should have been doing this from the start!

What's that?  One quick question before I go?

Sure thing.  I think I can do that for you.

You want to know what I meant about the stories that are spoken for?  Ah yes, my short stories.  Well now... THOSE are reserved for publishing, which I plan to do real soon.  I have a couple of favorites that I'm going to scrutinize with a critical eye, rework and edit if necessary and then send to a few magazines in hope of getting them published.  The others, (and the latter mentioned, should they not get published where I want them) will go into a collection that I plan to release upon the completion of the 'Ballad of John Rizzerio' trilogy that I'm currently working on, which should be sometime between May and the middle of June of 2013.

That all you needed?  Good deal.

Well then.  Thanks for stopping in on me today and I hope that you enjoyed our little talk today?
*laughs*  Very well then.  Until next time...

Just a Little Piece, That's All

*Warning*  

The views expressed 

here-in are extreme, 

but for your benefit.

If you think this blog post is going to be about something yummy, like cake or brownies, now is probably going to be the best time for you to stop reading and find something else to look at.  Maybe some pictures of kittens who can't spell, but what they say is irresistibly cute?  Or perhaps the latest meme on YouTube if that's your fancy.

Still here?  

Huh...  Well don't say I didn't warn you.  

If you've read my previous blogs, you ought to know by now what to expect.  If not and this is your first post; please stop here and check the others out.

Okay, so I need to get something off of my chest here.  You see, it's not something that I can talk about at work, nor is it something that I can mention to those offenders I'm going to be talking about.  You see, when I am at work, this is something that I just have to 'put up with', so long as the offender in question is a paying customer.

So what is the big deal here?  What is it that this 'offender' is guilty of?

Alright, you asked for it.  Don't say that I didn't warn you...because I did.  And if you continue reading this and find yourself traumatize, disgusted, or ruined for any future posts...well, that's on you, pal.  

***

So listen up, you nasty people out there.  You know who you are.

Throwing on some baby powder before leaving the house does NOT fucking constitute as 'freshening up'!  

You're not fooling anybody.  You're not getting rid of the smell either.  You see, these bad smells that you're trying to cover up are caused by physical things, mostly fluids, but things nonetheless.

That's right.  I can still smell that crap. 

And let me tell you something.  When I'm down on the floor at work, and I'm stocking merchandise onto the shelves, I can always tell who you people are the very second you step into my aisle.

That's right.  I can smell the baby powder from that far away.  

No, I didn't just prove YOUR point.  Just shut up and let me finish what I'm writing.

You see, I DO smell the baby powder as you step into my aisle.  But(t), the closer you get to me, the more I get from that underlying awfulness that you are trying to cover up.

You're unwashed asses, your unwashed bodies, the combination of those together or with the scent of your last fornication.  Oh god yes, I can smell ALL of that, and the fact that you think you are getting rid of that by splashing yourself with baby powder is laughable.  It's disgusting that you think you can get away with it.  

"But I'm only going to be in the store for a few minutes," is not an excuse, because I'm left with that smell for three to ten times longer than you were in my aisle.  

Come on people.

I can take a shower in seven minutes in a pinch.  Just get in and apply some soap in the problem areas and get out.  That much alone will save me and dozens of other people the discomfort of having to smell your rotten ass!

Don't know what your problem areas are?  

Let me give you fucking hint.

Your genitals.
Your underarms.
Your ass.

Take care of those three and I promise you this;
I will refrain from wrinkling my nose at you.
I will look at you when I talk to you, instead of looking around for the nearest route of escape.
I will devote your time to you in order to best help care for your needs.

It's not hard people.  Like I said, I can do it in less than ten minutes.

Just get in and wash the flipping stink off.

And if you want to tell me that you don't have water, that it's shut off, or that you can't afford or don't have soap, I can also tell you this in return;

Return the goddamn chips and candy.
Buy some scented wipes instead of powder.
Alternatively, buy some bottled water if you don't have running water at home.

There are many other ways to save your money to make cleaning up possible. 

But when I see you coming down my aisle, stinking up my work area and pushing a shopping cart full of junk food, soda, movies and other miscellaneous crap when you should obviously be buying something for your personal hygiene, you best just not expect me to be on my best behavior.

And if it seems like I'm preaching from atop a pedestal, if you think that I don't have any experience with this or that I'm just on a high horse and that I shouldn't be judging people, just hold on a damn second there hoss. 

I DO have some experience with finding ways to keep clean, despite a terrible situation.  

Over a decade ago, I found myself living on the streets for a short period of time.  While on an extended road trip, the vehicle I was driving broke down and I didn't have the money to get it fixed.  Not having a way to get any money, said vehicle became a temporary home until I was able to pander enough to do so.  During that time, I FOUND ways to keep clean.  It was bad enough that I had suddenly become homeless, but I wasn't going to become the .001% of society that lives in the dregs of society.

With a small amount of change, I was able to wash a couple pairs of clothes each week, get a small amount of food to eat AND get myself cleaned up as well!

I know that if I can give up junk food, soda, cigarettes, alcohol and countless other things that you people take luxuriously, that it IS possible and that there IS time (as well as a way) to do it as well!

Clean your nasty asses up people.  Do society a favor and try to show yourself a little self respect for Christ's sake!

All In Good Time, My Pretty

It's been a few days since I last posted here...  Oh, who am I kidding, it's been weeks!

Time flies when  you're having fun, right?  At least, that's what they say.  I'm note sure that I'm totally sold on that idea just yet.  Over the last few weeks, I can't recall having ANY fun, except for the few times I have been able to sit before my keyboard, plugging away on my next story.  And even then, those few times have been limited and short!

It's frustrating...frustrating because I have been having a tremendous influx of creativity and there just hasn't been enough time to outlet it properly.

Have you seen my author blog lately?  

I use the word 'blog' lightly because it's actually a Page I created on Facebook for the sole purpose of recording ideas, creating and sharing ideas and keeping in touch with future readers.  Also, I like to do some fun things now and then...  A great example of this would be the 'Late Night with R. Richardsson' show - a kind-of talk show where I (as an author) interview characters from my book(s) as if they were actors from a movie.

The first one was really fun and I am playing around with the idea of bring back another episode, another guest, more music and more fun!

So, have you seen it?

Seriously, if you are reading this, you have to check it out.  I don't mean to pitch a sale on you... Oh, who am I kidding, I totally do!

You should go to my author page and 'Like' it.  I spend a lot of time writing there...more than I do here, and you can keep up on my latest projects as I release them.

Yes?

Oh, well, that's okay too.  

It really doesn't matter that much to me.  My posts are open to the public and you can check them anytime you want.  Or not at all, that's okay too.  

Meanwhile, I'm working, working, working away on two big projects;

   1)  From the Ashes: The Hunter Reborn - which is book 2 in the 'Ballad of 
        John Rizzerio' trilogy
   2)  A yet to be named collection of short (horror) stories that I'm planning 
        on releasing very soon after book 3 in the aforementioned trilogy.

I've currently finished the first couple of stories for this collection and have several ideas in the works for the next few stories to come.  Currently, I am working on these stories on the mornings after I return home from my PT work, while I reserve my nights off for all of the heavy work on my novel.

As I mentioned before, it has been frustrating for lately.  What I really want to do is focus on my writing.  

"So why don't you," you ask?  

Tsk, tsk, tsk.  All this time you've been spending with me, and you can't even remember such a simple little detail.

I'm disappointed in you, really I am.

Let me just remind you real quick, I guess, as there's no sense in you backtracking through all of my writings to find the answer to this question.  I work 33+ hours/week as an Associate at Walmart.  When I get home, on top of maintaining my fishing business (Bargain Fishing Supplies), marketing my book (The Rise and Fall of John Rizzerio) and checking the statuses of the other websites I maintain (Windmill Inn Products), I am a full time father of four.

So yeah.  Getting ideal environmental conditions for my writing is tricky, at best!

Oh, but it can be done, don't get me wrong.

It takes three parts scheduling and one part ingenuity, but it's possible!

The biggest problem is that my deadlines are harder to meet.  Granted, they are deadlines that I have complete control over, meaning that I can extend them, or change them with no consequence...  My problem is that I don't like to finish past the time that is expected for myi work to be done.

"Take a deep breath.  Expel the negativity and all that jazz."  

All in good time, right?

I expect to finish my second book in the second week of December.  The editing process will then begin, as well as the cover design and then it's on to book 3.  This roughly makes it two months longer to write than my first book, but then again, this one is a novel with 20k+ wordcount increase.

But, with that in mind, I could have the trilogy complete (theoretically) in the second week of June (2013) and be working on the edit for this and the stort story collection as well.

So.

Mmm!  A busy schedule you have!  Write much you will!

I know, right?

That's it, in a nutshell.  At least until I am finished with the story of John Rizzerio and the book short stories following.  

Then what?  

Don't get your panties in a bunch now.  I have several other projects coming to life as we speak.  You see, when I am not typing at the computer, I'm writing my next (short) story idea down in a notebook for later reference.  Not that I need to for novel ideas.  After I wrap things up with my trilogy, there's a collection of Fantasy books I fully intend on writing.  Gonna get all 'Lord of the Rings' on yo' ass, yo!  lol

I'm also drafting bits and pieces for a Memoir which will loosely chronicle my experiences over the last fourteen years.  I say 'loosely' because, while the story will be true, it will be coming from a memory that has kept it locked away for many, many years.  And like anything that is locked in the dark long enough, some of my memories might have holes eaten through them from the moths.

Mmm-kay.  Moths are bad, mmm-kay.

Patience is a virtue, right?  Isn't that what they say?  God, I must be a friggin Saint by now.  I'm all FULL of patient virtue!  

j/k

Ph, but here we are again.  I'm really enjoying the feeling of the keys clacking away beneath my fingertips and I have to leave.

Time for bed, you see?  I have to work tonight before I'm allowed 48hrs to work on my book.  

It's worth it, right?

Hell yes it's worth it!

Until next time, enjoy what I've left here for you and I hope you'll return for more...or in the very least, tell a friend about it!

~ R. Richardsson ~



Oh, hey.  before I forget...  If you caught any (and all) of the typos in this and any other of my posts...?

Please refrain from sharing.  lol  

I'm almost always writing these blog posts with one eye closed and one foot under the covers.  Making a typo is the least of my concerns!  This blog is here to help me improve up my writing, not my editing!  lol

Too Few and Far Between

It's getting to be that time of year when time to oneself becomes somewhat of a commodity.  The holidays are picking up, birthdays are becoming more frequent and duties call.

These last seven days have flown by faster than I would have liked.  For the first time in a couple of months, I had more days off during a seven day period than I did days on at my part time job and I'm sad to say that the last of them is coming quickly around the corner.  As I sit here, looking at this week's, as well as the next two week's schedule, I find myself with the exact opposite of what I just came out of.  Rather than five off and two on, it's going to be the other way around.

Those of you who know me might recognize my gripe with this.

Those of you who don't are asking yourselves; "Why is this guy complaining about working more days out of the week?"

Simply put, while I enjoy the part time work, what I want to be successful in (i.e. my business and my writing) need the lion's share of time in order to take off.

Obviously, I enjoy my writing.  As of this very moment, I have this blog up and running, my first book has been published and I have done work on various other small projects with Hubpages, Squidoo and other services.

I have also enjoyed working with my business, Bargain Fishing Supplies, but I am sad to say that it is currently shut down due to a small financial embarrassment on my part.  Yeah, business has been slow and I overlooked a charge that was coming up...  *sigh*  I'm hoping that it's only temporary, as I have literally thousands of hours invested into it, but only time will tell.

It seems like the thing that I'm really looking for these days is a good break, and as anyone on this very adventure knows is that a good break is few and far between.

Yes, times are rough.  We all know the shape of the economy.

I also realize that I'm pandering to my own whims with my business, but I'm hoping to keep it running and continue working with those people who enjoy the same hobby I'm helping them stay supplied in.

I also know that as I continue to write, I will also continue to grow in experience with my work.  Typos will gradually fade down to what I will consider an acceptable figure and (hopefully) I'll be able to reach a wider audience as well.

If you haven't heard, I am currently working in Science Fiction/Horror with my 'Ballad of John Rizzerio' trilogy.  These two genres are a couple of my favorites, but I am also planning to dabble in Fantasy as well!

It's funny...

As I was working on my first book, I began to see images of what I wanted the second and third in the series to become.  By the time it was finished, I had developed the covers for the following books and had written rough outlines for what I wanted the second and third to follow.

And, of course, if you know me at all you know that I won't be following said outlines!  *lol*  They're only there to help me from completely derailing from the track of mind that will get me to the end result.  Everything between the beginning and end can, and will, likely change before all is said and done!

As it is, I'm well into the second book, and unlike the first it's looking like it will turn into a full blown novel!

I hope you've had a chance to read the first one by now; "The Rise and Fall of John Rizzerio", and are looking forward what's in the future?

Spoiler for those of you who haven't; I believe in cliffhangers!

Yeah...  So be warned.

And like any good cliffhanger, this book picks up where the first left off, so you have that to look forward to.  :)

I realize that I'm a new writer.  Am I an Author?  Let me ask you this; "What determines an Author?  Is it that he or she writes and publishes 'A' book(s), or is it in how the book(s) is received?"

That is the real question.  I've read through many writing forums in which many a writer has said that the determination of Author belongs to those with proper technique, grammar, spelling, punctuation and many other factors.

Yeah, okay...  I see their point with this.  But, I truly believe that an Author is someone who can successfully tell a story, through writing, that leaves a memorable impression upon the reader.

And really, when it comes down to it, that's all I'm asking to have the chance to do with you; is leave an impression.

You might read my blogs that think; "This guy's an idiot," but don't judge my work by my blogs alone.  As I've said before, this blog is only a place for me to practice my writing and speak the thoughts that are on my mind.  I enjoy doing both of these and, truth be told, I don't really give a flying fuck who thinks I'm an idiot or not.  That's your opinion and you're free to wear it as openly on your sleeve as you like.

You might have also noticed that I'm not shy about my language.  Yeah, well...  Where I come from, not everyone is a devout Protestant who believes that God will strike them down for uttering curses.  Quite the opposite, if you can believe that happy crappy!  Most people let loose expletives as freely as you would your farts in the privacy of your own home!

Ah, now...  Don't blush.  I know you do it, just as well as I know what roses really smell like, and you're not fooling anyone by denying it.  So you just keep on pooting and I'll accept that and I'll keep on writing the way I talk and you can accept that.  And if not, well, how bout we play a round of "Hide and Go Fuck Yourself" just for the fun of it?  :)

Alright, alright.  I know that I'm coming off as a little offensive now, and well, I guess that happens now and then, so...

Yeah...

I apologize.  I'm thinking about the weeks ahead and how little I'm going to get to work on my book during them.

Oh, I could write a little here and there during the work week, but think about this; I'm also a father of four, who must get the kiddos to and from school throughout the day and keep the ones who don't go fed and happy as well.  With the two youngest being on either end of the toddler spectrum, this isn't easy, nor does it make for a conducive work environment.

Keep in mind that I also have to find time to sleep as well...

Oh, but I will.  I juggle my time well and I will find a little time here and there to write.  It's contrast, however, is startling when you look at the work I can get done on a typical day off, where I'll write anywhere from 1500 - 10000 words, depending on my inspiration!  When I'm working?  It's more like 150 - 2700 words...  I know, right?  And inspiration be damned!

Somewhere along the line I'm going to have to pull the belt in a notch, however, because my deadline is fast approaching.  While it's not something that's set in stone, it's something that will work for me financially and if I miss that window, I won't soon have another chance to meet it.

That is, unless, my book sales pick up and I'm getting the reviews that I'm looking for?

We'll just have to see, I guess...

Hopefully, the days off aren't too few and far between before I get a chance to find out...

I Walk Alone. Yeah, With Nobody Else

This is something that I struggle with quite a bit these days; this feeling of complete and utter emptiness.  It's unfulfillment on a primal level.

What's that you ask?

I know what you're thinking;  "How could you possibly have these kind of feelings?  You have a wife and four children.  You run your own business.  You're writing books, which is something you've wanted to do for a long time.  Why?"

I know, right?  (By the way, have I ever told you how much I like these three words put together?  "I know, right?"  It's cute, it's charming and it holds enough subcontext to be used for many different situations.)

Ever since I went back to school, my home life has flipped completely upside down.  I've reverted back to third shift while my family has had to learn to go on pretty much without me.  Literally.  The most time I spend with my children is during the summer or on extended vacation and I only see my wife on a one on one basis for a couple of hours per week.

I haven't had any friends, in the physical sense, for over a decade.  And in case you don't know what that means, let me clarify; everyone I know is on the other side of the computer screen.

I don't go out for a drink.  Hell, the most I've had to drink this year was during a weekend I spend with Windmill Inn Products during a competition they were in.  No, I wasn't working for them...  I was just there spending time with the fam, but there was beer and I was thirsty...

To cut a long story short, and mostly because I don't remember much of that afternoon, there were beers to be had and I had the hell out of them.

I don't go to social gatherings.  Simply put, I don't know anyone with the same interests that I have.  Those people faded away long ago, and those who haven't and are still in my life only communicate with me through the occasional "like", or the even rarer comment.

Not that I'm overly concerned with this, mind you.  I do realize that people have their own lives to live. We all grow up, and at some point, the people you know just aren't as important to you as they used to be.  I've accepted that.  We all change.  I know I have.

If you were to ask me, when I was younger; "Where do you think you'll be in twenty years?" I certainly wouldn't have told you; "On the road to nowhere."  I might have romanticized a story about how I would be a successful game tester, writer or some type of vigilante/bounty hunter.  Yeah, any of that would have been great.  But never would I have guessed that I would still be struggling to break free.  Nor would I have guess that I would be surrounded by people who love me, and yet still feel so alone.

The weird thing about any of this is that right now, it's what's best for Us.

There's no other way around it.

My business, while I love working with it and the people that utilize its service, does only well enough in small spurts.

My work for Windmill Inn Products only pays when there's work that needs done, which is sporadic, at best.

My work as a writer is still new and needs time to develop.  Shouldn't I call myself an author, you ask? No, not quite yet.  You need to sell books successfully before that can happen.  You need to have good reviews and most importantly, you need have perfected your own niche in the craft.  So no, I'm not quite yet an author, but I hope that in the years to come I am able to say that I am.

No...  Two decades ago, I imagined myself in the perfect job, with a happy family and surrounded by friends.  Why not, it's one helluva dream, right?

Now, I could put the blame on any number of things.

Myself for starters, for trusting a large portion of my life to those assholes I used to call friends.  If I had known how disposable I was to them, things would have turned out a lot differently.  Maybe I'd still have friends in the people I knew before them?  God knows that I miss them...

But then again, what I learned and went through with them has given me the strength to do a lot of things that I had never believed I could do, either.  At that time, leaving that shithole excuse of a town was just a pipedream.  And why not?  When I was struggling during that final year of highschool to graduate, and my principle pulls me into the office to say; "You're never going to be anything with your life.  You're going to amount to nothing,"  what was I supposed to believe?

But I've even grown from that too.  While I went on to graduate with a diploma, even if it was a couple of months later, I went on to travel the states and even the world, while during that time He went on to be arrested for drunk driving and, ultimately, be terminated by the Board of Education.  So yeah.  Screw you, Baptista.

Okay, well...  It hasn't all been glory and fireworks.  If you read my first post, you know that I've suffered some too.  But I've risen above it to do some pretty wondrous things!  I've married someone who is perfect for me and we've created four beautiful children together.  I've finally written my first book and am moving into that career path.  I own my own business.  I went back to school for something that I love and was very good at it.  (Still am when I have the time to work on it!)

So why then, do I feel so much damn loneliness?

At first, I thought that it attributed to depression, but that wasn't it.  I don't break down for no apparent reason, nor do I have any particular thoughts about anything that I shouldn't be.  No, it's not like that at all.

I do cry quite a bit.  I am man enough to admit that.

I cry for our situation.
I cry during a particularly moving moment in a TV storyline.
And even during any written story.

It's not always sad tears either...  It's the moments between people whom are friends that get me, I guess.  I think; "I miss that.  I want that."

But alas, it isn't so!

No, not with the way that things are these days.

I work 32 hours/wk as an Associate at Walmart and I sleep an average of 40hrs/week.  (That's just a little over five hours/day if you do the math.)

This leaves the rest of my time working on social media in the mornings and my book at night on my days off.

I can't wait until it changes.  As much as I enjoy my current PT, I need to do something that will allow me to be more in tune with my family schedule.  Maybe even allow me to have time to step out now and then?

I don't know.  It doesn't look very likely to happen this year, unless my book(s) or my business suddenly boom into the market.

So am I consigned to continue this dreary and empty lifestyle?  I'm afraid it must be.  I'm not likely to suddenly stumble across any Geeks like myself who want to hang out.  Nor do I believe that someone is suddenly going to say "Hey, you want to have a drink and talk about work?"  Not that I'd have the time to that that even if they did.

I Hung My Head.  (Yes, that's also a Johnny Cash reference.)

Now don't get all pretentious on me here.  I'm not calling out for help.  Nor am I looking to suddenly be anyone's best friend out of this.  If you read my previous blog post, the whole purpose of this is for me speak out the things that are on my mind.  This is a way for you to get to see inside of my head, if but briefly, one post at a time and figure out its inner workings.  Oh, and good luck with that.  They're so fucking twisted that even I don't know what the hell's going on half the time!

I like to think that this is what allows me to be the the way that I am and tell stories in the manner that I do.  To tell you the truth, I cannot wait until I have finished the tale of J.R. so that I have the chance to diversify into other areas with my writing.

I also like to think that I best express myself in writing.  I can't count the times that someone has talked to me and the best I can do it sound a bit like a drunken Forest Gump.  I know that I have no real social skills, and if I am ever put to the test over a luncheon or friendly dinner with work colleagues, peers or aficionado in the arts that they would most likely look at me funny while thinking; "Who the hell invited THIS guy?"

I know, right?

I admit it.  I get flustered.  I stumble on my thoughts and lose them in translation.  But when I'm writing?  I'd like to think that's where I shine.

Well then.

I'm getting to a point where I want to stop now.  Looking back, I'm somewhat all over the place.  I've thrown it all out there.  Oh, and Jimmy crack corn and you know what?  I don't care.

Take it with a grain of salt.  Take it for what it is.
Truth be told, I feel better for having said (some) of it.

I often wish that I had someone I could talk to, be completely open to and bear all my most secret inner thoughts and workings with.   Yes, I have someone that's pretty close to that (my wife) but this works so much better for me.  I can get all my thoughts put together thrown out there without having to worry about how I sound, or having any trepidation about the context of what I'm saying.  It is what it is.

I told you I walk alone, (but maybe) that's because I prefer to be by myself.

And...End Scene.