Barbarians and Wizards

***BARBARIANS AND WIZARDS***

My brother James and I have this running gag in our conversations where all of my thoughts revolve around barbarians and wizards. Am I writing a new novel? It’s about barbarians and wizards. Am I watching a TV show? It’s about barbarians and wizards. Am I taking Lego pictures? They feature barbarians and wizards. While my brother is technically not wrong, he’s also only half-right. Beautiful Monster’s main character is a warrior elf who lashes the shit out of his opponents with a chain whip. Is he a barbarian? In fighting style only. The main villainess of that story is a seductive sex trafficker who rapes him. Is she a wizard? Not physically, but she’ll put a spell on you anyways. Okay, maybe James is right more than half of the time.

Even my contemporary short stories and novellas have elements of barbarian and wizard dynamics. My most recent first draft, Incelbordination, features an angry, pugilistic dwarf as its main character. Is he a barbarian? Well, he can rage like one, especially when he’s being bullied or deprived of romance. So at the very least, he’s an emotional barbarian. But what about the main villain of that story? Well, he’s a cult of personality whose followers subscribe to the incel culture. He’s got his minions by the balls and he won’t stop until the main character’s mind belongs to him. Is the villain a wizard? If brainwashing is a magic spell, then yes, he could be a contemporary version of a wizard.

What about the contemporary novella that came before Beautiful Monster and Incelbordination? It’s called Silent Warrior and features an emo high school senior with an eating disorder and a head full of trauma. Is he a barbarian? Not physically since he’s a hundred pounds soaking wet while holding an anchor. Emotionally? He very well could be. He’s got anger and disrespect for authority down to a science. What about his social studies teacher? While not a leader in any sense of the word, he still has a negative, conformist influence over his students, much like the math teacher from Pink Floyd the Wall. Is he a wizard? Again, brainwashing could be a spell, so yes, the social studies villain could technically be a wizard.

Of course, my brother is clearly joking when he teases me for being obsessed with barbarians and wizards. We both get a good laugh out of it. But where did this obsession come from? Well, I’ve always liked the fantasy genre ever since I watched James play Final Fantasy IV, Final Fantasy VI, and Chrono Trigger on the Super Nintendo back in the 1990’s. But my barbarian and wizard obsession didn’t start with those games specifically, although Ayla from Chrono Trigger and Umaro from Final Fantasy VI could fit the barbarian role to a fault. My obsession didn’t even come from playing Hero Quest as an even smaller child (because the main classes the player could be included the barbarian and the wizard).

I have Diablo II: Lord of Destruction to thank for my obsession, specifically with barbarians. As a lover of RPG’s, I’ve always enjoyed playing as the physical, in-your-face, melee range warriors. It didn’t matter if their mana was drained, because physical attacks didn’t require it and even if they did, the warriors could keep going and going in spite of it. Once a wizard runs out of mana, he’s fucked, because he’s not strong enough to go toe-to-toe with his enemies. Warriors, on the other hand, exemplify self-sufficiency to the nth degree. The barbarian in Diablo II was always lauded as an unequaled melee-range fighter. He could use two weapons at once, he could withstand a shit-load of punishment, and he could dish it out like nobody else.

Later in life, I would find out that the paladin was a nastier brawler than the barbarian. Paladins can strike multiple times in one sitting and they have magical auras that don’t cost a damn thing. My favorite aura to give the paladin was cold elemental, which froze my enemies and slowed them down to unbearable speeds. Plus, it added damage to my multiple attacks. The paladin actually did more damage than my dual-wielding barbarian. But if I had known this as a teenager, I probably would have developed an obsession with paladins instead of barbarians.

Without my barbarian obsession, there would be no Deus Shadowheart. Who is Deus Shadowheart, you ask? He was my Gary-Stu killing machine, that’s who. He had been the main protagonist of my stories long before I knew that Gary-Stu was a pejorative. He hacked off limbs, he ripped flesh like it was Christmas paper, and he bathed in blood with every swing of his axe. But unfortunately, this doesn’t make for a relatable character and if there’s one thing readers love, it’s someone they can relate to. As of today, he’s a character in a Poison Tongue Tales story called Deus Ex Machina, where being a Gary-Stu works to the story’s advantage. Be sure to pick up a copy of Poison Tongue Tales at your favorite online retailer! But seriously, I’m glad Deus found a home he can be comfortable with.

My barbarian obsession didn’t end with just story characters. I lived the gimmick as well. Okay, so I didn’t cannibalize and maim everybody in my path, but I’ve got the attitude down pat. I scream in anger whenever little things go wrong with my computer. I swear like a sailor whenever the phone rings and it’s for me. I eat every meal like a pig and get pieces of food stuck to my shirt. I burp and fart in public without saying “excuse me”. I used to watch professional wrestling religiously before it started sucking and the wrestlers themselves could be considered barbarians. Hell, the current WWE Raw Tag Team Champions are a pair of Viking warriors named Erik and Ivar. Even the Authors of Pain were barbaric in their fighting styles and muscular body types before they were relegated to bodily function jokes (AOP is short for Authors of Pain and can also be made fun of by saying AOPee-Pee).

The one part about barbarian life I will never agree with is the refusal to learn how to read and write. As a semi-professional author, knowing how to read and write is a part of my fucking job! Hell, this blog entry wouldn’t exist if I was illiterate. My college degree wouldn’t exist either. But yeah, because barbarians exist on the fringes of society, they don’t have the same access to education that the nobles would have. Would being educated hamper a barbarian’s ability to rage? Not really. Once a barbarian, always a barbarian. If anything, they’ll do what I did with my career and write crappy novellas about wrestling and, you guessed it, violent battles involving barbarians and wizards.

So why am I writing this blog entry to begin with if my barbarian obsession was already obvious to everyone here? Because even though I (allegedly) think about them 24/7, I need a reminder every now and then of where my creative fuel comes from. Whenever I have days where I’m bored out of my mind and mentally exhausted, I can feel my creativity dwindling away. I want to energize myself and beat the shit out of the mentally ill demons that hold me down, so this is what I have to do. Does it always work? No. Does my depression, schizophrenia, and litany of mental illnesses get in the way sometimes? Absolutely. It’s the reason why I can’t sustain an aggressive writing career, so I have to work from the shadows. It sucks. It sucks badly that my life is hampered by mental exhaustion and mental illnesses, but there’s not a whole lot I can do about it…except for energize my creativity through barbarians and wizards…and apparently orcish prostitutes, which was one James recently added to my list of obsessions. Hehe!

I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight!

***QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“I know not what weapons World War III will be fought with, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.”

-Albert Einstein-

***POST-SCRIPT***

Actually, a barbarian might feel at home fighting with primitive weapons such as sticks and stones.

Everything Is Stolen

***EVERYTHING IS STOLEN***

Just to be clear, this journal entry isn’t about art theft, though it is a horrible thing to do to somebody and those who commit this crime should be punished to the fullest extent. I’m talking more about the interpretation of creative fuel. Inspiration always comes from somewhere whether it’s a book we read, a movie we watch, a videogame we play, or even personal experience. Because we draw inspiration from these and other sources while processing them into our own version of art, there really are no original ideas. In other words, everything is stolen whether we want to admit it or not. The only original thing about our art is our interpretation of the creative fuel.

A few days ago, I drew a picture of my latest dark fantasy warrior, Night Terror. He’s a demonic mask who makes an appearance as the main villain of my short story “Burning Dragon”. The ultimate design looks original enough, but if you take a careful look at the curved eyes and wicked grin, you’ll see exactly where I drew inspiration from. In case you didn’t play that game as a youngster, I’m talking about Phanto from Mario Brothers 2. Adding the doodads from the demon horns to the facial hair to the golden jewelry was my own interpretation of the creative fuel I was given. If I drew Phanto as is, then it would be character theft and that’s a serious offense. I took something from my childhood and made it into something I could call my own. That’s what art really is: an artifact of our thoughts. Hell, the word art is in the word artifact, and artifact is the root word of artificial. It’s not the real thing. It’s a representation of the real thing and has the same aesthetic pleasure as the real thing.

Deus Shadowheart is a character I’ve had since the beginning of my writing career in 2002. He’s a Gary-Stu barbarian with big bulging muscles, long black hair, thick metal armor, and a big fucking weapon of some kind in either hand. I’ve always said that Diablo II was my creative fuel for wanting a barbarian character. But what about the name Deus? That actually comes from the Ronin Warriors anime, which I watched religiously during my freshman year of high school. One of the main villains on that show was a toximancer named Dais (pronounced “DAY-us”). I liked him so much that I thought I should borrow his name for my beastly barbarian. The rest is history.

One last example and I’ll get out of your hair. My most recent short story was a psychological horror called “Madhouse”, where an artillerist mercenary named Joe Fields enters a dusty Japanese temple to track down his target. The metal armor and big ass guns were ripped directly from Starcraft, another computer game I played as a child alongside Diablo II. One of the character classes in Starcraft is a Terran marine, a basic long-range warrior with heavy metal armor and a gigantic gauss rifle. I’ve been accused of stealing from Starcraft before, but then again, as I’ve said at the beginning of this journal, everything is stolen from somewhere.

I even had a multi-genre writing teacher in college named Carlos Martinez who said that great writers steal from other sources. He wasn’t condoning outright plagiarism, but he was encouraging the class to draw inspiration from as many sources as possible. Come to think of it, Carlos was one of my favorite teachers in college. He was always encouraging to me even when I doubted myself. I could have written the worst possible story or poem in the history of mankind and Carlos still would have believed in me. Naturally, I take him seriously when he encourages me to draw inspiration from everywhere.

I’m willing to bet that one of you, my loyal readers, have stolen something before as well, maybe a clever line or a character archetype. As long as you give credit where it’s due and didn’t steal the whole thing, your ass should be covered like a blanket on a pig. See? I stole that blanket on a pig line from a Cricket Wireless commercial. Adios, amigos! Thanks for reading!

***WEEKLY SHORT STORY CONTESTS AND COMPANY***

It’s a new week and it’s time for a new story, though as we’ve learned from this journal entry, there’s no such thing as a new story. The prompt is adrenaline and this story just happens to be called “Fire and Fury” (a title I stole from a Skillet song). It goes like this:

 CHARACTERS:

1. Ronis Wakizashi, Strict Sheriff
2. Julie Clay, Traumatized Sailor

PROMPT CONFORMITY: As someone with PTSD, Julie is constantly running on pure adrenaline.

SYNOPSIS: Sheriff Wakizashi is celebrating the closing of his latest criminal case by having breakfast at his favorite restaurant, the Buffalo Brunch. While he’s there, he notices Julie sitting alone at a table acting strange. A waitress accidentally spills coffee on Seaman Clay’s fingers and sets off a traumatic rage in which the sailor holds the entire restaurant hostage. Ronis’s first instinct is to blast her with his double barrel shotgun, but then he decides trying to calm her down and get her to safety is a much better idea. Ronis’s social skills were never top notch, so playing the role of negotiator brings up a bad taste in his mouth.

***DEMON AXE, CHAPTER 10***

Now that Daniel Mercer has finally figured out what his “toy” is for, he plans on holding a concert with Johnny Vega and Sonia Marquez as bouncers. Everybody seems to be onboard with this plan except for Raven, who wants to hunt down Roger Zee before holding anymore events. Raven’s reasoning is that attracting that many people at one time will just give Roger more targets to slash to pieces. Daniel’s twisted logic dictates that Roger isn’t going to make himself easy to find, so why not draw him out? Who has the monopoly on common sense: Raven or Daniel? You be the judge.

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Now that Night Terror (a.k.a. Phanto V 2.0) is in the books, the next warrior to be immortalized in a drawing will be Olivia Snow, the elven cryomancer from a story aptly called “The Cryomancer”. For this drawing, I was thinking something along the lines of Frost or Sub-Zero from the Mortal Kombat series. Well, there I go stealing again! I hope the picture looks good with my own interpretations.

***BOOK QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“It’s like thinking you’re having phone sex with Jessica Alba only to find out you’ve been beating it to Bea Arthur.”

-Chris Jericho, author of “A Lion’s Tale: Around the World in Spandex”-

Hotheadedness

***HOTHEADEDNESS***

I can count the number of travesties going on in this world on one hand…and the other hand…and my toes…and my teeth…and my hair. I may talk briefly about them online, but that’s about it. People always say that taking calculated risks is better than being passive in the shadows. They say if you don’t take risks, you haven’t really lived at all. Is that true? What if you choose to live safely because every one of your risks has ended badly? Am I suddenly supposed to live up to someone else’s standards of bravery by having more shitty results? Is it too much to ask that at least one of my bold risks pays 100% interest? So yes, I’ve lived in my safe place for several years now and I like it just fine.

Basically, what the failure of these risks boil down to is that I’m extremely hotheaded when it comes to confrontation and debate. Every time I’m challenged, my blood goes cold, my stomach feels ill, my mouth goes dry, and my Benedict Arnold of a brain shuts down when I need it the most. Once all is said and done, I dwell on these confrontations for several days, weeks, or even months. As I’ve stated several times, I’m autistic and schizophrenic, so that means a huge increase in sensitivity. The more sensitive you are to negative stimuli, the more you’ll want to avoid them.

If you were a psychologist trying to pick my brain, I guess you could say that the reason I love writing violent stories so much is because I secretly wish I could do those horrible things to my opponents. If I had the muscles and heavy weaponry of my favorite barbarian Deus Shadowheart, there would be a lot of dead bodies lying around. If I had the power of psychomancy like Tony Castle did, I could simply make my opponents feel just as sensitive and nervous as me. Writing violent stories is my own personal way of making gratuitous bloodshed legal.

But writing bloody stories doesn’t really solve anything, does it. Come to think of it, punching a guy in the face doesn’t do much either. Anger begets more anger. Hate begets more hate. While I realize how powerful of a force love can be, when I get into hotheaded mode, I’m not thinking about love. I’m either thinking about getting the hell out of my situation or beating some ass. I think even less about love when my schizophrenic mind shoves the incident in my face over the next few days and interferes with my life.

So there you have it, guys. Until there’s a cure for hotheadedness and oversensitivity, you won’t see me in the picket line or on the battlefield. Taking deep breaths does nothing, because while you’re trying to calm yourself down, your opponent will have already made the next move. And then you’re several moves behind and before you know it you’ve been bested by someone who is clearly in the wrong.

The best I can do for the cause is continue to write my bloody stories, pen heartfelt poetry, and vote my ass off. Sharing memes doesn’t do a whole lot, because let’s face it, nobody ever changed their mind because of a stupid meme. At least when I’m creating art from the shadows (a.k.a. “the safe place”), I’m getting some bang for my buck. What do I get for going to people’s houses and telling them what’s what? A black eye? A bruised ego? A bullet in my chest? Those would be preferable to an overly hot head. I’m not just talking about any hot head, but one that could bake a sheet of chocolate chip cookies.

I am by no means a cowardly person. I’m just a guy with awkward brain chemistry and too many lost chances. Even something as simple as applying for a job at What Culture could be considered a calculated risk. It could either mean a lifetime of writing kick-ass articles and being around funny people, or it could mean stressing myself out and not knowing what the hell I’m doing. Seeing as how I have a limited knowledge of pop culture, I’m guessing the latter of those two would be more likely. Why crash and burn when I don’t have to?

Living in a stress-free environment is paramount to the recovery of a mentally disabled human being; every psychologist will tell you this. It’s part of the reason why mental disabilities are grounds for gaining social security benefits: because working in, say, a customer service job would unleash the demons inside. While it is true that level-headed people feel stressed out at work too, disabled people feel it a hundred times worse. We can’t in all good conscious leave these people with no income, so that’s where social security comes in. That’s a talking point I’ll defend until the end, hotheaded or not.

Do I have the power to change the world? I don’t know, buddy, do you? Does anybody? Does any group of people have a loud enough voice to bring change to this mad world? Some people get noticed, some people get ignored. If everybody got noticed, we’d have a much happier world, wouldn’t you agree?

***WEEKLY SHORT STORY CONTESTS AND COMPANY***

It’s a new week at the WSS and wouldn’t you know it, the admins used my prompt suggestion “Inner Voice” (I wonder how I thought of that one). My story this week will be called “Madhouse” and it goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1. Joe Fields, Artillerist Mercenary
2. Random Hallucinations

PROMPT CONFORMITY: One of Joe’s hallucinations is his inner voice.

SYNOPSIS: With bulky steel armor and chain guns mounted on either hand, Joe attempts to hunt down a bounty head in the middle of a bamboo forest. He stumbles upon a Japanese-style temple thinking that this is where the criminal is hiding. When he busts down the doors, he finds that nobody is there and he tries to leave. Instead of a clear escape, Joe begins having hallucinations of ghosts, samurais, ninjas, and other warriors attacking him at random angles. The vulgar mercenary begins to slowly go insane as he fights off these tormenting phantoms. Joe is convinced that there’s a conspiracy against him, but this belief only contributes to the degeneration of his mind.

FUN FACT: I guess Mr. Fields secretly has a hot head.

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

I’ve tried twice to draw Knox from “Emoticon Artist”, but these attempts were met with me throwing both pieces of paper in the garbage. I’ll eventually find a good model for my orc warrior, just not tonight.

***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Protesting is a lot like having sex. You can scream and be as wild as you want. You can even do it all night long. But if something starts to burn, then maybe it’s time to go to bed.”

-Trevor Noah-

Toy Trauma

Every careful step downstairs to the kitchen sent a thunderstorm of pain across Marty Hunt’s head. He held his temples and whined “Ouch!” the entire way down. It was a slow and laborious process, but reach the bottom floor he did. Wearing only plaid pajama pants and white socks, the pain-wracked father dragged himself over to the kitchen table and sat down with a quickness.

He leaned his head all the way back and breathed a sigh of relief. No more ouches, just a nice self-head massage with sinewy fingers. The coffee pot could wait a few more minutes. Marty wanted to milk this small moment of relaxation for all it was worth. He might have even fallen asleep at the table with his head in his arms if he wanted to.

“Morning, Dad!” yelled little five-year-old Kevin. The high pitch jolted Marty awake and the thunder and lightning in his brain was going batshit crazy. The single father rubbed his temples even harder while Kevin ran around the kitchen with his favorite action figure, the beefcake barbarian Deus Shadowheart.

“I’m going to eat your soul like a bowl of cereal!” yelled Kevin in his version of a manly barbarian growl. “I shall chew your flesh like bubblegum! And I shall drink your insides like Coca-Cola!” The little son shook the Deus Shadowheart action figure in front of his father’s face and roared some more.

“Please don’t do that to me this early in the morning, Kevin. It’s been a shitty couple of months with this divorce hearing. Cut Daddy some slack today,” said Marty as he continued to massage his temples.

“I shall enslave your people and force them to make bowls of Quaker Oatmeal for the rest of their lives!” said Kevin in his warrior growl.

“Is that what this is about? You want Quaker Oatmeal? Alright, I’ll get you a bowl…”

“Silence, peasant! You shall bring me a bowl of oatmeal and put extra brown sugar in it! Raaaaaaaaaaargh!” Kevin shook the action figure in his father’s face some more, causing him to clench his eyelids as tightly as he could. No matter how many times Marty rubbed his own temples, his head would always feel like it was under Deus’ mighty fur boots. The thought of his own brain popping out sent a shiver through his body.

“What’s the matter?! Do you not like that I am king of this wasteland? Too bad! I rule with an iron fist and a big bloody battleaxe!” yelled Kevin a la Deus. In between words, Marty kept pleading with him to shut up, but the overly energetic child said, “Bow to me and my big bloody battleaxe! You cannot win, mere mortal!”

“That’s it! I’ve had it with this shit! Give me that goddamn thing!” screamed Marty as he stood up and knocked his chair over. He and his son played tug of war over the mighty toy with the little guy screaming, “No!” repeatedly at the top of his lungs. The screeching voice to Marty was like having Deus’ meat cleaver go through his skull. He felt like his brain was a hand grenade ready to go off. His heart was pumping and thumping like a barbaric war drum.

In one harsh pull, Marty yanked the toy out of his son’s hands and yelled, “I don’t like this thing! And here’s what I’m going to do with this piece of shit!” Despite Kevin’s foot stomping and repeated “No!” screams, Marty ripped Deus Shadowheart’s arms and legs off before throwing the dismantled mess across the kitchen floor.

Kevin knelt down beside his toy and cried a tearful storm over the broken remains. Marty watched on with a sorrowful guilt over what he’d done, but remained strong in the face of having to discipline his son for his ballistic behavior. The father’s defenses were knocked down a few pegs when Kevin turned his tear and snot-covered face to him and said, “I want to go live with mommy! I hate you, Dad! I hate you!”

Headache and heartache were one in the same for Marty Hunt. Every pump of blood throughout his body made him groggy with depression, yet his face maintained its angry expression as a sign of strength against such powerful words. “You can’t go back to your mother, Kevin! We had a divorce and it’s been finalized! She cheated on me with another man! She cheated on us! She’s the one who’s tearing this family apart, not me!”

Kevin stood up and rushed over to his father to pound his tiny fists into his hairy stomach. “Stop it, Kevin, you’re hurting me! Knock it off, kid!” yelled Marty. The little spitfire wouldn’t listen. He pounded harder and harder until his father’s breath was completely drained from his system.

The old man collapsed to the ground and clutched his chest in pain. His breathing was raspy and shallow as he said, “Call 9-1-1, Kevin! Hurry!” When Kevin folded his arms and refused to move, Marty let down his authoritative guard in an act of desperation. “I’m sorry!” He wheezed. “I’ll buy you a new toy! You can have any one you want!”

As Marty’s vision was fading to black, he could hear his son’s voice shout “Daddy!” as well as little footsteps scurrying across the linoleum kitchen floor. Hopefully, those footsteps were on their way to the house phone to call an ambulance. Marty didn’t even know if Kevin was physically capable of making such a call. He lost hope as his breaths grew shorter and the peace he wanted at breakfast was finally obtained. Nothing but a dull gray screen clouded his vision. No tears, no angry words, no sorrowful thoughts, just the kind of grayness one could expect from an Emergency Alert System screen.

And then the father could feel his heart beating again. Little by little, the thumping and pumping was dominating his overly sensitive ears. His heart raced a little faster with each passing second. The gray screen before him became a field of blurry shapes and lights. He had a strange plastic mask over his face and the air pressure felt overwhelming to him. Soon the blurs and lights concentrated themselves into a clear picture. He was riding in the back of an ambulance with EMT’s by his side. Even more important to him was little Kevin staring down at him with a worried look on his chubby-cheeked face.

“Kevin…Kevin, dear god. I’m so sorry about this morning. I meant what I said about the toy. Come on, little guy, just give me another chance,” said Marty, his voice weak through the plastic mask.

Little Kevin Hunt held his father’s index finger in his tiny hands and said, “I don’t care about the toy. I just want my daddy back.”

Marty’s eyes began to well up with tears and his heart rate sped up. He cursed himself mentally for being “stupid” enough to not realize it was never about toys. He made enough money at work that he could buy the entire Hasbro catalogue if he wanted to, maybe even a few collector’s items. It was love that he failed to show at breakfast time, not finances. The whole divorce proceedings with his wife were all about who loved Kevin more and in the end, Marty ended up pounding the sides of his gurney in frustration that he became the world’s biggest hypocrite.

The EMT’s tried to pin Marty’s tight arms down in an attempt to slow his skyrocketing heart rate. It was Kevin’s voice yelling, “Daddy, don’t!” that finally subdued the hypocritical father. He collapsed into the gurney bed sobbing hysterically while his son hugged him around the waist. Hugging around the chest would have been ill-advised due to Marty’s heart condition.

“Hey, Kev…” said Marty with a little more conviction. “Have I told you lately that I loved you and that you’re the best son a father could ever have?”

“Do you mean it?” asked Kevin with dewy puppy dog eyes.

“Absolutely, little guy,” said Marty. “Me? I’m just a monster…” He took a while to catch his breath before he said, “I’m the monster who’s going to have the biggest battle with Deus Shadowheart this universe has ever seen!” His throat got more hoarse and villain-like, much to Kevin’s beaming delight. “I shall unleash hordes of minions upon the barbaric wasteland and I will burn everything to ashes! Nobody is safe, not even the big badass Deus Shadowheart!”

Father and son laughed together while hugging around the waist. In all of this legal mumbo-jumbo, the one thing all three members of the Hunt family forgot to do was laugh. How such a simple gesture could change a man’s heart rate and give his burning headaches a heavenly cure. Isn’t laughing and playing what action figures and families were all about? 

Warrior Names

***WARRIOR NAMES***

We’ve seen a lot of fantasy warriors come and go throughout our creative fuel intake. They tend to have last names like Overspark, Dreadlord, and Pusdrinker. Yes, that last one is a real enemy from Diablo II: Lord of Destruction; I shit you not. In all my time of writing fantasy and sci-fi stories, I’ve pretty much just passively accepted the fact that warriors have two-word last names that describe how badass they really are. That’s where I got characters like Deus Shadowheart, Butch Hellfire, and Machu Throatslash to name a few.

However, the more I started collaborating with Marie Krepps to fix my short stories, the more I realized that such two-word last names sound a little too…obvious. And to her credit, Marie has a point here. After all, when you eventually meet Machu Throatslash’s parents, what do your refer to them as? Mr. and Mrs. Throatslash? That’ll make for some fun conversations. Suppose Machu wanted to take a cute girl to the prom with him and then the two decide to marry. Would the girl be legally obligated to call herself Mrs. Throatslash? That’ll look good on her credit card application: Julia Samantha Throatslash. She doesn’t actually want to make any purchases with it; she just wants to run the sharp edge across someone’s neck and bleed them out.

Ever since hearing the other side of the warrior name argument, I’m kind of on the fence now with what I believe. A part of me doesn’t want to let go of my fantasy and sci-fi traditions. I want to have badass warriors whose names strike fear in the hearts of their opponents. But then again, if they really are badass warriors, do they need to have overpowered names? Couldn’t they just get the job done by breathing fire on their opponents or chopping their heads off with a magical battleaxe?

I have to confess that Marie’s critique was the inspiration behind the John Bush character from “Kill, Cut, Scalp”. The whole reason that hero took the name John Bush was so that the evil sorcerer Dark-Law wouldn’t suspect him of being a fire breathing death angel, which he eventually transformed into to get his assassination job done. It’s easy to trust a guy name John Bush (even if he is a death angel), but if his name was Konnor Dragonslash, then the ruse would have been all for naught and Dark-Law would have killed him off right then and there.

George Carlin did an entire comedy routine about the power names have to influence history. There would have never been a World War II if Hitler’s first name was Floyd. They would have beaten the shit out of him in Munich in 1931! And nobody would have been fearful of Jack the Ripper if his first name was Wally. And Billy the Kid? Do you think anyone would take him seriously if his name was Billy the Schmuck?

I guess the lesson to be learned with giving your characters overpowered names is to judge how seriously you want the warriors to be taken by their enemies. Helpless civilians would bow at the metal boots of Konnor Dragonslash or Viktor Fireborn, but they’d laugh John Bush or George Kerry out of the building. Maybe you want your characters to be as intimidating as possible. Or your philosophy could be based on a rhyme that fellow indie author Edward Davies once bestowed upon me: “Convince your enemies that you’re benign and you will beat them every time.” Choose your fate, noble warriors, and bring back a severed demon head. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

　

***BACK TO RANDOM SELECTION***

In an effort to jumpstart my creative life again, I’ve gone back to the idea of randomly selecting my next artistic task. I did this back in the summertime with plenty of success. I’m doing it now with even more success. There are currently six items on my list to choose from:

　

1. American Darkness: put together the paperback and Kindle versions of this newly revised anthology.

2. Dark Fantasy Warriors: draw a picture of the next randomly selected short story character on my list, which this time happens to be the fourth and final character from “Guns, Drugs, and Misogyny”, Edgar Rinehart, elf mercenary.

3. The Girlfriend Wager: read 30 pages of this self-published raunchy sex comedy by Edward Davies.

4. Poison Tongue Tales: edit the next randomly chosen short story from this sci-fi, horror, and fantasy anthology. If you’ve been to your Deviant Art inboxes lately, you would have seen a revision of Bee Jay the Glutinous. Marie really wants to eat macaroni and cheese with a talking orange kitty now. ^_^

5. The Silence of the Lambs: read 30 pages of this traditionally published serial killer mystery by Thomas Harris.

6. Weekly Short Story Contests and Company: catch up on the reading of this week’s “Broken Windows” short stories (which I’ve already done) and contribute a story before the week is over (which is also something I’ve already done).

　

There is one item that should be on this list, but isn’t, and that’s Blood Brawl. Blood Brawl is supposed to be my main novel WIP, but ever since making it to chapter three, I’ve hit a roadblock. The entirety of this chapter is supposed to be Ivan Blackstone chasing Justine Dupree down the street while swinging a scythe in the air. How the hell am I supposed to stretch out a chase scene for that long and keep it from getting dull? I have no choreography, damn it! I’ll figure something out come hell or high water. But for now, Blood Brawl is off the menu.

　

***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

WYNARSKI: I went into the video store one time and that son of a bitch was sleeping.
DANTE: I’m sure Randal wasn’t sleeping.
WYNARSKI: Are you calling me a liar?! Are you calling me a liar?!
DANTE: No, I’m saying maybe he was resting his eyes or something like that.
WYNARSKI: What the hell is that, resting his eyes? What is he, an air traffic controller?
DANTE: Actually, that’s his night job.

-Clerks-

Gail Reinhold

NAME: Gail Reinhold

AGE: 30

OCCUPATION: Paladin

CANONS: Final Fantasy Hardcore, Tribe, Hardcore Hell, and Fireball Nightmare

Your eyes don’t deceive you and quite frankly I don’t know why they would unless you were having an acid flashback. Gail Reinhold has been a part of four different failed stories, thus making her the most experienced heroine I’ve ever had (and no, that’s not an invitation for the W-word, so piss off). No matter what canon she was a part of, she was always the eventual arm candy of Deus Shadowheart, the most popular and experienced character I have.

Deus Shadowheart is a smelly barbarian who can rip someone in half with his thumb and forefinger. Gail Reinhold is a beautiful paladin who can be both tough-minded and tenderhearted at the same time. How exactly do these two people find each other attractive? How does a beautiful flower like Gail give consent to a barbaric beast like Deus and then the two live happily ever after? In all the times they’ve been together, it was always because Deus was saving Gail from an abduction, one that happened over and over again, might I add. Doesn’t exactly make Gail a strong feminine role model despite supposedly being a badass magic-wielding paladin.

With the random selection I put my characters through, it’s not likely Deus and Gail will ever be a couple again. They might not even be part of the same canon. Were they ever really good for each other if Gail was only a damsel in distress? How about she actually put her magic and combative skills to good use and save a man’s life for a change. Or save another woman’s life. Or save her own life. Make her tough and independent at the same time. She can still be the tender and emotional sweetie pie I always made her out to be, and that might actually work in making her a flawed character despite being nearly invincible in combat.

In addition to being multi-dimensional as a character, she can also be that way when it comes to the time period she occupies. Paladins are Dungeons & Dragons characters by nature, which in plain English means they’re medieval warriors in medieval times. But what if this was the future? What if she was an intergalactic princess with an energy sword (I can’t say light saber lest I be sued by Disney) and unlimited magic powers? Or here’s a crazy idea: she could actually make it in the modern world with no fantasy or supernatural elements whatsoever. She could be a badass marine, a rookie cop, or a digital Robin Hood, all while using a sword. A cop with a sword? A marine with an energy blade? Hell yeah, now we’re talking!

If Gail does find another story to be a part of, then I can’t make the same mistakes I made with her in the past, which are make her too fragile and kill her off with no sympathy or empathy for her character. Gail has a lot of potential to be something great. She shouldn’t be ruined by an early death or a Mary-Sue stigma. I might have to go all the way with her and make her the main character of whatever story she’s a part of. Gail Reinhold: a badass diva with a blade and an attitude. I like the sound of that! It almost sounds like it has graphic novel implications. Bottom line: I believe in Gail’s star power. She can have the charisma if I give it to her. But the question now is, what story will she be a part of? Let’s go to Random.org to find out!

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“If Natalya won the Divas Title, that wouldn’t be good for Tyson Kidd. He’d have more things to carry.”

-John “Bradshaw” Layfield-

Clair Deus

NAME: Clair Deus

AGE: 24

OCCUPATION: Witch Hunter

CANON: None

Back in the years 2007 and 2008, whenever I was strapped for fantasy movie script ideas, I would come up with multiple lists of 100 original characters and randomly select from those lists to determine which ones would be in the same story. The list items would have a name, a race, and a class. That’s it. No back story, no psychology, no flaws, just the basics. The good stuff would be developed as I wrote the script. Unfortunately, Clair Deus, Human Witch Hunter, was never randomly chosen for a script, so she stayed on the list she was a part of indefinitely.

But the more I thought about the potential Clair Deus had, the more I began to develop her for no real reason inside my own head. I always envisioned her as a medieval dark fantasy version of Kate Beckinsale’s character from the Underworld saga. The few differences were, Clair had gothic makeup on her face and used crossbows and magic wands instead of guns and knives. Not much original thought put into Clair’s character, I agree.

It was the characters closest to her on the list that allowed me to develop her even further. Many of those extra characters had “mancer” in their class title. “Mancer” is a Greek suffix that signifies the person has magical powers in the prefix of his choosing. For example, a pyromancer works with fire, because pyro is a prefix for fire. A cryomancer uses ice, a hydromancer uses water, an electromancer uses lightning, and of course, we all know after playing Diablo II for half of our lives that necromancers deal in death. With so many people surrounding Clair Deus’ spot on the list with “mancer” in their job titles, you’d think she would have plenty of “witches” to choose from when she goes hunting for evil bastards.

All of these possibilities flowing through my head made me wonder why I couldn’t just cherry pick characters from these lists and do whatever the hell I goddamn want. I favor random selection for a number of reasons. One, it’s an exercise in discipline. If I force myself to conform my story to the selections I’ve made, I will have established myself as a disciplined writer who didn’t let his only form of controlled chaos get too overwhelming. Two, if I randomly select from whatever list I’m working with, I’m giving every list item an equal chance of being chosen. When everything has an equal chance and there’s no favoritism of any kind, that would be the equivalent of parents raising multiple children. I treat list items like I would treat my own children if I wanted any: with justice and fairness.

Although I use randomness every day whenever I’m working creatively (in fact, I use it to choose blog topics as well), Clair Deus will have to settle for being an unemployed character on Garrison’s Library. But if she stayed there indefinitely, it would defeat the purpose of having old characters’ biographies on my blog in the first place. I want to use Clair in a dark fantasy story someday. The question is, how big of a role will she play (if any at all) and will she have enough flaws to make her a believable character rather than a Mary-Sue badass? That’s the problem I’ve faced in the past with a lot of my dark fantasy characters: they were too perfect for their own good. Nobody likes perfection, because life is far from perfect. Although we should all strive to be better people, we will never be perfect, which is what makes real life such an interesting story. Shouldn’t Clair Deus’ story reflect that kind of creativity? And before you ask, no, Clair’s last name isn’t a recycling of Deus Shadowheart’s first name. The two characters are unrelated.

Kat Sexton

NAME: Kat Sexton

AGE: 27

OCCUPATION: Agent of the Flame

CANON: Fireball Nightmare

It happened yet again, folks: the alumni from Final Fantasy Hardcore couldn’t hold down a job after all. Deus Shadowheart, Dr. Scott Cain, Gail Reinhold, Rudiger Seran, all of those guys and more are out of work yet again. Kat Sexton was just making her literary debut in Fireball Nightmare and she wasn’t even around for a cup of coffee. How sad. How relentlessly sad. And by the way, Susan, her name is Kat Sexton, not Sexy Cat. And for the last time, those things on the end of her breasts aren’t called Cat Nips. Okay, that was my idea, so I’m pretty much talking to myself here.

In the first act of Fireball Nightmare, Kat Sexton was mentioned as the ex-girlfriend of the main character Deus Shadowheart. Deus was a loyal servant to the volcanic god Vahd (that rhymes), who threatened to destroy the world if his one singular forest was violated by land developers. Kat didn’t see the urgency in such a threat and decided to dump Deus. Kat wouldn’t be seen again until the second act, when Vahd really did carry out his threat after his forest burned to the ground at the hands of Dr. Scott Cain, one of my most popular villains.

The second act saw the world in fiery and lava-infested ruins. Red skies, red grounds, red rivers, and more importantly, red blood stains. Ironically enough, Kat joined a different religion from the one Deus was a part of. She signed up with a deity named Paladine and became the Agent of the Flame, which is one of the religion’s highest honors. Kat had one job: find the Lunar Crystal and drop it down Vahd’s blowhole, which will kill him and restore order to the world.

The entirety of act two was supposed to center around the romantic relationships of all seven main heroes. In Kat’s case, she was in a love triangle with Deus and Brutus Warcry, the latter of which was recycled from a game of Dungeons & Dragons. Kat desperately wanted to give Deus a second chance to right his wrongs, but Brutus was just the perfect guy for her. Two badass barbarians fighting over the same chick. Sounds like an episode of Cheaters: Dark Fantasy edition. The only difference is, neither Joey Greco nor Clark Gable III has the balls to get in between these three warriors. They know how fight and everyone around them will be dragged to their early grave in a pool of violence.

Unfortunately, the love triangle was never fully developed, because in the middle of act two, I decided to pull the plug on Fireball Nightmare. I thought long and hard about making that decision and it was still difficult to make. But it had to be done. The character roster consisted of Gary-Stus, Mary-Sues, and premature kamikazes. The only emotional quality to any of these characters was within their romantic lives, but the romance wasn’t believable, so it’s not much to hold onto. Kat was no exception to the Mary-Sue rule. She was a badass fighter and that’s about it. Not one visible flaw within or without her.

The other reason why Fireball Nightmare was a failure was because by the time the second act rolled along, there were seven heroes for me to baby-sit. I have a hard time getting into the heads of that many people. For future reference, I’m going to try and cut back on how many characters are in a given story. Watch You Burn, my current work in progress, has a three vs. three system of good and evil characters. Mario, Jessica, and Gryace are the heroes and Sage, Austin, and Cameron are the villains. Simple as that. No need for extra unneeded shit. If Fireball Nightmare was that simple, I might not have pulled the plug on it.

So what should we do with a girl like Kat Sexton? She can still be a martial arts badass with a cape, tank top, and cargo pants. She can still fight for the greater good. But if I can’t come up with any flaws for her, then she’ll have to be a side character and not the lead one. Ultimate badasses don’t have much to learn. Flawed characters do. Kat Sexton has a lot of potential in one of my future stories. But for now, she’ll have to keep her eyes glued to the want-ads.

Garrison Kelly's Smash Words Interview

Q: Describe your desk.

A: It’s a hand-me-down from my older brother and has been in my possession since 2008. I have to be careful with it because it’s small and shakes easily. The upper tier has my computer screen, pencils, flash drives, and tissues on it. The middle tier holds my fan, house phone, speakers, tape player, keyboard, and sometimes a bottle of Diet Mountain Dew. The bottom tier is where my computer tower, printer, and power strips are located. In addition to writing stories and poetry, my rickety desk has also been used to draw some…interesting pictures.

Q: Where did you grow up, and how did this influence your writing?

A: I’ve lived in many places over the course of my childhood, but the one place where reality hit me the hardest was when I was going to high school in Chehalis, Washington. My freshman year was best known for the verbal bullying I have endured and almost committed suicide over. Due to the crippling PTSD (and eventual schizophrenia) I’ve suffered, most of my writing is influenced by dark and disturbing themes such as death, bullying, mental sickness, sex, and violence. I do have lighthearted stories in my archives, but I will always be known as an R-rated author.

Q: When did you first start writing?

A: I’ve been writing all of my life, but the time when I started taking it seriously was January of 2002. My first writing project was a videogame idea called Final Fantasy Hardcore. It had the same magical premise and romantic leanings as the games in the Final Fantasy series, but it was set in a dystopian future and had tons of mature content. My two favorite characters from this series are a charismatic barbarian named Deus Shadowheart and a perverted scientist named Dr. Scott Cain. Ever since scrapping Final Fantasy Hardcore, I’ve been trying to find a story for those two to be a part of. I think I’ve finally nailed it with a dark fantasy novel I’m currently writing called “Fireball Nightmare”.

Q: What’s the story behind your latest book?

A: My most recently published e-book as of now is American Darkness, which isn’t really a novel, but a collection of emotional short stories in a contemporary setting. There are 22 different stories jammed in this anthology, but the pride and joy of this series is one called “Another Brick in the Wall”, which obviously takes its name from the Pink Floyd songs. It is a classic verbal confrontation between a strict US History teacher named Sid McDonnell and a stressed out student named Sam Keith. This is a scenario I have always fantasized about, especially considering I had some rather unsavory teachers in high school and college who deserved a tongue-lashing.

Q: What motivated you to become an indie author?

A: My circumstances were the reason I chose self-publishing over traditional. I live in a town called Port Orchard, where young adult writers don’t have an outlet for their creativity. If I wanted to go somewhere to fulfill that need, it would have to be either Seattle, Bellingham, or Tacoma, all three of which are big cities that are too hard to get to. I don’t have a car or a driver’s license, so I have to depend on others for transportation. The people in my family who have driver’s licenses have schedules of their own and can’t ferry me to the big cities on a daily basis. Instead of stressing myself out by traveling to the big cities, I choose to use the internet to make my presence known. I have a lot of work to do in order to market myself, but I wouldn’t have self-published if I didn’t believe I could do it.

Q: How has Smash Words contributed to your success?

A: I haven’t sold very many e-books yet, but when the money starts rolling in, it will be because I chose Smash Words. Simply having a place where my writing can be immortalized is good enough for me. I write regularly on Deviant Art, Good Reads, Blogger, and Face Book. Smash Words is different from these places because it gives me a platform to organize my writing into a tangible product instead of just bits and pieces. Sometimes people need to see the bigger picture in order to make a decision about whether to be a member of an author’s audience.

Q: What is the greatest joy of writing for you?

A: Exercising my creativity is always a fun part of the business, but my favorite part comes from the feeling of accomplishment I get after I write something. I have taken something from my screwed up psyche and made something beautiful out of it. I liken this to the scene in the musical Pink Floyd the Wall where the main character smashes his hotel room in a fit of rage and afterwards makes a piece of art out of the remains. It’s a creepy way to think of my accomplishments, but then again, lots of creepy things go on in my mind.

Q: What do your fans mean to you?

A: My fans mean everything to me. Every time they give me a compliment or critique on my writing, it helps me become a better writer. Even if it’s a short compliment like “very well-written”, it’s enough to boost my confidence to continue putting myself out there. I’m shy at first, but when I begin to get comfortable with a group of people, we do so much for each other.

Q: What are you working on next?

A: It’s a dark fantasy novel called Fireball Nightmare. The first act, which is known as This Is Violence, deals with a forest-dwelling barbarian named Deus Shadowheart who will go to extreme means to protect his home from city developers. The main reason he does this is because he is a servant of the volcanic mountain god Vahd, who will erupt into apocalyptic fire if his forest is destroyed. The second act is called Valley of the Damned, but I won’t get into it right now because too much of the plot will have been revealed.

Q: Who are your favorite authors?

A: This is going to sound ironic coming from a lifelong writer, but I didn’t actually become a bookworm until 2009 when I picked up a copy of The Cleaner by Brett Battles. The books I read in college were slow-paced and dull while The Cleaner was exciting and quick. It’s because of this drastic change in pace that Brett Battles will always be my favorite author. Others include fellow introvert Susan Cain, Sherman Alexie, Carl Hiaasen, and Stephen Chbosky. Realistically, I’ll give my patronage to any author who can dictate a fast pace with his or her writing. Bonus points to go to any author who can almost bring me to tears. I haven’t cried since 2007, but I came very close to doing so with many of the authors I’ve read books from, particularly Stephen Chbosky.

Q: What inspires you to get out of bed each day?

A: To be honest, I don’t have much of a professional or social life in my small town of Port Orchard, Washington. To put it bluntly, I’m unemployed and have very few friends. I don’t have much of a reason to get out of bed every day, so the closest thing to inspiration I have is walking to the grocery store to get three giant bottles of Diet Mountain Dew. Walking is a fun exercise that helps me clear my mind, but more importantly, it’s an opportunity to rock out to heavy metal music on my MP3 player.

Categories

Garrison’s Library has been up and running since the summer of 2012 and it’s not slowing down anytime soon. Over the years, blogging has become more fun for me creatively than writing short stories or novels. That’s not to say I won’t write short stories or novels anymore, because I will. It’s just that blogging allows me more freedom to do certain things. I’m allowed to publish material about other media without fear of copyright lawsuits. I can show or tell as much as I want to (because I’m technically not telling a story). I only have to write one page worth of material for each post, as opposed to short stories which are generally three.

I originally started this blog with the idea of touting fast-paced books that I’ve read throughout my life. It was supposed to be an internet mecca for Brett Battles’ “The Cleaner” and Sherman Alexie’s “The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian”. When I ran out of books to talk about, I began writing posts dealing with creative writing tropes. Only occasionally did I talk about a piece of media other than a book I already blogged about.

As of today, I’ve divided my posts into multiple categories. They are…

　

1. Fast-Paced Book Touting. I could always do this on Good Reads, but if I did that, I this blog wouldn’t have been born.

2. Creative Writing Tropes. This was my way of sharing my knowledge of the writing game with my readers. I think of the relationship between myself and the audience as a teacher and my students. You know, without the forced extroversion, detention notices, and heartbreaking grades.

3. Unemployed Characters. These are characters I’ve used in past works or haven’t used at all who no longer have a story to call home. Deus Shadowheart was constantly “losing work” and needed a new “job”, if we can use economic lingo for a moment. First he was a videogame character, then he was a movie star, then he was a pro-wrestler, and now I’m planning on using him as a forest-dwelling barbarian. If he loses this job, he just might have to file for unemployment benefits or food stamps. No, I don’t know what that means either.

4. Songs for Creative Fuel. It’s no secret that I’m a music lover. I love a good heavy metal riff as well as the complete opposite of that, which would be a gentle piano lullaby. But sometimes I don’t want a shallow relationship with my music. The songs I choose to blog about have affected me so deeply over the years that if I don’t use them as creative fodder for my stories, it would be a wasted opportunity for me.

5. Dreams. I don’t always remember my dreams by the time I wake up. There are even some that aren’t really noteworthy. For the ones that are, I try to analyze them as best as I can so that they too can be used for creative inspiration. I’ve been trying to access my subconscious for a long, long time now. If it takes a sensory deprivation tank or a good night’s sleep to do it, then let’s dive right in.

6. Couples. I’m writing this blog entry to introduce this one as a new category. I didn’t grow up with much of a romantic life. I’ve had an online girlfriend and I have a current girlfriend who I’m very shy around. Living vicariously through other couples, real or fictional, is another source of creative fuel for me. Whenever I’m not writing about orcs and elves kicking the shit out of each other, I’m usually writing about the love between people and how much they care about each other.

　

Garrison’s Library is coming up on its second anniversary pretty soon. So now I’m pouring a glass of fruity beer and toasting to that. Goodnight, everybody! Sweet dreams! And if you do have sweet dreams, don’t forget to use them as creative fodder!

　

***FACE BOOK POST OF THE DAY***

“The Lego Movie proves once again that Master Building is a natural function.”

-Me-

The Cowboys From Hell (Austin Carlo and Court Jackson)

For the next few blog posts, I’m going to take a character (or multiple characters) of mine and try to find stories for them to be a part of. I’ve been trying to do this for over a decade with a barbarian I have named Deus Shadowheart and it looks like he’s all set. In this blog post, I’m going to focus on two more people who need employment. Otherwise, they’ll just rot in development hell for the rest of their wasted existence. Their names are Austin Carlo and Court Jackson, better known as The Cowboys From Hell. No, I didn’t originally give them that team name, it just stuck with me after listening to Pantera a lot. Like Deus Shadowheart, Austin and Court were once part of a combat sports slash dark fantasy novel called Hardcore Hell (originally called Hardcore Hate until my overly sensitive family shamed me into changing it). Because the novel had too many instances of telling instead of showing as well as hyperbolic descriptions that smothered the reading pace, it eventually had to be dumped and all of the characters had to be locked away in development hell. Austin and Court’s role in the novel was to be the bodyguards of a religious CEO named Hammond Gibbons. Hammond was extremely preachy and could get under anybody’s skin just by the mere mention of a fiery Christmas tree lot known as hell. Austin and Court didn’t necessarily agree with Hammond’s agenda nor did they enjoy being around him. But the money was good and so they took the jobs as hired henchmen. Now for a little characterization. If you think Deus Shadowheart was the biggest baddest motherfucker in the whole story at 6’4” and 285 lbs, try Austin and Court on for size. They were both 7’ tall and weighed anywhere between 325 and 400 lbs at any given moment. They weren’t a couple of lard asses either, they were just big muscular henchmen. Yes, they seem stereotypical and they probably were. So why then would I want to give employment to a couple of washed up minions? Ever since calling them The Cowboys From Hell, I’ve given a new life to all the things they could be. Maybe they’re not just mindless bruisers. Maybe they’re sadistic psychopaths. Maybe they’re deadly gangsters. Maybe, just maybe they’re into heavy metal music. Can you see these two juggernauts forming a band together and touring the world? How about fighting with chainsaws? Or doing what Tyson Hardy did in my latest novel Brawl Mart: carrying magical machineguns. Characters can only be one-dimensional if you give up on them so easily. In fact, as a lesson to all you authors out there, characters can only put out what you put into them. If I want Court Jackson and Austin Carlo to be legitimate badasses instead of mindless drones, I’m going to have to do something a little bit extra with them. Something like, you know, exercise my wild imagination. Court and Austin will find a home someday. I know it. If nothing else, they could be a professional wrestling tag team and the Wrestling Observer Newsletter can name both of them the Most Overrated Wrestlers of the Year. It’s a dubious award, but at least they’re getting noticed!

　

***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

VIC MACKEY: You’re married. Is your wife pretty?

LAWYER: She’s beautiful.

VIC MACKEY: How about I take your wife out for a weekend in Vegas, ride her ass hard, and put her away wet.

LAWYER: What?!

VIC MACKEY: Well, that’s about the level of cooperation I can expect from my captain on anything.

-The Shield-

　

***POST-SCRIPT***

I don’t know if I’ve advertised my e-books on here just yet, but if I haven’t, I’m going to do it now. But before I do, I want to let you all know that my original Lulu.com paperback books “Red Blood, White Knuckles, Blue Heart” and “Foe vs. Blade” are no longer available to be purchased. I couldn’t justify selling obscure mixed-genre anthologies for ten or twenty dollars each. So instead, I have an account with Smash Words and I’m selling genre-specific e-books at 99 cents a pop. My penname is still Garrison Kelly and these are my e-book titles:

Brawl Mart (two-act urban fantasy novel): https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/399435

Confessions of a Schizophrenic Savage (rock song lyrics collection):
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/369154

Dragon Machinegun (sci-fi, horror, and fantasy short story anthology):
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/353531

Remember, ladies and gentlemen: they’re 99 cents a piece. What are you waiting for? Happy reading!

Magnum Opuses

A magnum opus is not a candy bar or an ice cream treat. It’s a singular work that defines an author’s entire career. Musicians, directors, and other artists can have magnum opuses as well. For Anthony Burgess, his magnum opus was A Clockwork Orange, much to his chagrin. The only reason why he wrote it (in such a short time span, no less) was to pay a bill. That’s it. That’s all A Clockwork Orange was supposed to be. My first thought upon hearing this was, “If he can write this good of a story when he’s rushing it, imagine what he’s like when he slows down and plans everything.” Mr. Burgess should be proud of himself. Actually, he can’t since he’s dead, but you get the picture. Then again, there are times when I can sympathize with this magnum opus phenomenon being a bad thing. I have a DeviantART account (in case you didn’t know) and from time to time I’ll post memes of my top ten favorite things or top 100 or god knows what else. When my memes get more views and favorites than my pieces of literature, which I genuinely worked hard on, that’s when I become disappointed with the internet community. It makes me upset that they can identify with a meme more often than a piece of art that actually means something. I don’t know if this is a mark of the smart phone generation or what, but it does piss me off from time to time. But then there are times when a magnum opus can work in the author’s favor like it did with Anthony Burgess (even though he didn’t know it just yet). You know the nu metal band Limp Bizkit? Their magnum opus is a tossup between the songs “Rollin’” and “Counterfeit”. What about Pink Floyd? Theirs is a tossup between the albums The Wall and Dark Side of the Moon. Imagine having to choose between a colorful prism and a hideous screaming face. What if you tried playing a word association game with the name JK Rowling? Harry Potter will always be the first thing to come to mind. The point I’m trying to make here is to be proud of your magnum opus regardless of how ashamed it made you feel previously. In hindsight, a bunch of people faving my memes could lead to those same people being interested in other things of mine as well. That’s normally how it works with drawings, photos, and such. Just try and stay positive about the things you’re famous for. For me personally, I’m glad that my characters Deus Shadowheart (charismatic barbarian) and Dr. Scott Cain (corrupt rapist) have a profound influence on how people see me. That’s why I recycled them from an old videogame idea called Final Fantasy Hardcore into a better-written story known as Hardcore Hate 1. If you’re famous for good things, embrace it.

　

***MY FIRST SALE***

After months of agonizing over success and failure, I finally sold my first copy of “Red Blood, White Knuckles, Blue Heart”. I’m confident that the one sale will spiral into a hundred. Or a thousand. Or a million. Whoever bought this book is going to spread the word for sure. For that, I’m thankful.

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“It don’t bother me if people think I’m funny, ‘cause I’m a big rock star and I make a lot of money!”

-Korn singing “Earache”-