What’s in a name?

Above all, I've always loved coming up with names for characters. 

I always try to fit the name to the character, too; in one sense, the name becomes the character. You hear it, and (hopefully) picture them in your head. You couldn't imagine George R.R. Martin's Jon Snow being named Tormund, or J.K. Rowling's Ron Weasley being named Severus, right? It's why, when I stumble on a name I really love, I get ecstatic. 

Today I landed on a name that was so good that I literally had to pause for breath after writing his introductory paragraph.  What follows is the (short) story of how it came about. 

I was writing a new chapter for the sequel to GIFT OF THE SHAPER, and I had to come up with a name for a new character. There are a few ways of doing this, and I thought I'd share my methods. 

My first and most reliable method for naming new characters is to just make them up. 

As a lover of all things RPG, I have a long history of making stuff up that dates back to my early teenage years (Dwynn Stormhammer, Dwarven warrior, made his debut in a D&D game when I was 15). To make up a name, I start out by rolling around some sounds in my heads and relating them to the character. Do I need something sharp, or something with a lot of vowels in it that will sound extravagant and refined? This is how I came up with the names for characters like Kethras and Yetz, or Ynara and Elyasha. Sometimes you just land on something that sounds good and you go with it. 

Other times, if I'm not feeling as creative, I'll look to the world for help -- specifically, city names. 

For the character I was writing this time, I opted for the latter method. 

The character was from Beyond the Wastes, so I knew it had to have a certain "sound" to it. Something sharp and bold and nothing fancy (he's more or less a commoner, after all). I happened to be looking at a map of Africa, so I started scanning around for cities that might help me out. 

After a few minutes of searching, I came across the perfect one in a city called Savalou, in Benin. The spelling of the name was a little too fancy for my taste (remember, commoner) so I altered it to Sivulu, which I thought was perfect for a rugged, bearded guy with dark features. 

Sivulu -- Siv to his brothers -- was born. 

Now for a little more on coming up with names. 

For GIFT OF THE SHAPER, my favorite name of all was Kethras. It was so well-suited to the older Kienari: mysterious, exotic, and reminiscent of one of Tolkien's Quenya-speaking elves. (And Tolkien, as a linguist, was an absolute master with names and is someone I aspire to emulate in my writing and character creation). 

For city names like Khala Val'ur (originally TianaVal'ur, which I decided was terrible so I changed it about halfway through) or Gal'dorok, I knew I needed something rough and coarse, like the Black Speech of Tolkien's Orcs. I put together syllables that sounded good to me and would also roll off the tongue easily -- these were words that the reader would be pronouncing dozens and dozens of times. For cities like Annoch and Lusk, I leaned more towards brighter-sounding Gaelic and Irish-inspired names because I thought it would provide a good contrast against the darker names of the Khyth like Yetz and D'kane. 

And sometimes, like in the case of Lash'kargha, I blatantly borrowed ("stole," some might say) from real-life cities. I had been deployed to Afghanistan a number of times already, and I loved some of the city names, with Lashkar Gah being my favorite. It just sounds so fantastic! I couldn't not use it. 

I also used the Afghan cities as a template for a few other city names which I didn't use in the first novel but will make an appearance in the next one. For names like Do'baradai and Haidan Shar, I owe thanks to my deployments to Afghanistan once again.  Using names of cities I've been in (or near) is a lot like leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for my life, too. I'll never forget my time in Afghanistan, and now that it's worked its way into a book, neither will anyone who reads it either.  

So there you have it! It was a small glimpse into the process, but I hope the little peek it gave you a good idea of how I do things and, most importantly, how much I really enjoy doing this stuff. 

Thanks for reading. 

-Dave

Memories as Long as Light

Some time ago I wrote a short story for a reddit thread. The writing prompt was for a friendship between a time traveler and an immortal, and I thought it was an interesting premise. Below is my attempt. I hope you enjoy.

—

Sometimes I wouldn’t see him for years. Once, I went an entire millenium – but in a lifetime that is measured by the dying of stars, even a day spent alone can seem like an eternity. But he always came back – and every time he did was special because I always worried that it would be his last.

His coming was heralded by a tingling sensation – a warm glow that worked its way out from the base of my neck – that signaled a shift in the temporal plane, and I knew he had returned to me once again. I opened my eyes as he materialized. 

There he was, just as I remembered him: hair the color of snow and eyes to match, with a bloodless complexion that reminded me of the moons. He looked up with his wide, white eyes and grinned.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said.

“Bastyon,” I said with a smile. “You’re late.”

“I’ve heard that joke a hundred times and it never gets old,” he answered with a laugh. “I’m glad that some things never change.”

Ever since the first time I’d felt him, Bastyon had been a curiosity to me. He told me of the race of people he descended from – “humans,” he called them – and the solar system that they once called home. Their time had long, long since passed and they had moved on to other planets, other suns, and other forms. The body that Bastyon inhabited now was one that he found comfortable, but was by no means one that he was bound to. It was what let him slip in and out of the time stream so easily, and was the one that he had first come to me in. It was the one that I knew him in, and it comforted me. But there was something about his smile this time that bid me look deeper – an emptiness behind his eyes that I could not quite place.

“It’s been four hundred years,” I said slowly. “You’ve missed a great deal.”

Bastyon looked up at the night sky, to the twin moons suspended overhead. “Well that’s what I have you for,” he replied. “Or are you too busy to catch me up?”

I chuckled as I looked down at his fragile frame – his thin, delicate limbs that moved so easily. I reached down and put my hand on the ground for him to step into.

“For you?” I said. “I can spare a few moments.” 

I picked him up and raised my hand up to my shoulder. He crawled onto its rocky, grey surface easily like he had done so many times before. I smiled at him and joined his gaze into the sky.

“The stars are dying,” I said.

“I know,” Bastyon whispered. His words were heavy, like they were filled up with water. “It’s why I came back.”
I smiled, but it was more out of reflex than happiness. Hearing his voice was comforting, and it had a soothing effect on me. 

“How many times have you come back?” I asked. I didn’t look down to see his reaction but I knew he was looking away.

“I stopped counting after a thousand.”

“And the universe after this one?”

“It’s big – bigger than this one,” he replied. “You …” he paused. “You would like it, I think.”

“Then tell me about it,” I said. My eyes were closed now. 

I felt him stand up and place his hand on the side of my face. His touch was tender, and I knew he was trying to comfort me. 

“I haven’t traveled too far past the beginning, but there are more stars than I’ve ever seen. I think it has the potential to give birth to something really special.”

The question lingered in the back of my mind – the one I had thought countless times to ask him before, yet lacked the courage to speak. I had seen the birth of the sun, lived through the formation of the cosmos, experienced the vast emptiness of space and time that only an immortal can even conceive of. Yet here I stood, faced with the end of all things, and could not even whisper. 

But Bastyon, like he had done countless times before, spoke the words for me.

“You told me that you don’t feel any pain when it happens. That it felt like being born, or like waking up from a dream.”

I felt the cold of the universe closing in as the stars winked out, one by one. I knew that it would not be long. I was just happy that my friend was here with me.

“Thank you, Bastyon,” I said to the darkness. “But you should go. When the last light goes out, it will be far too cold for you to survive. There will be nothing left but me.”

“I know,” he said. I felt his arms around my neck in a gentle embrace. It was gesture that I’d always told him was strange to me, but he never seemed to care. “I just wanted to see you one last time.”

So this truly was the end, I thought. Let it come.

“You’re sure I can’t talk you into coming with me?” He asked. There was warmth behind his words, and it almost made me reconsider.

“You know I can’t,” I finally replied. “This is my universe. My home. I gave birth to the life in it, and will be here when it ends.”

I felt the cosmos shutting down. Space and time had begun their slow and inevitable unraveling. 

“You say that every time I come back,” Bastyon said. “I keep thinking that one of these times I can change your mind.”

“I’m afraid not, little friend,” I said with a sigh. 

“I find you again, you know,” Bastyon said. The words were hopeful, but had a sadness to them that clouded his voice. “But you’re different. You’re not… you.”

“It’s the nature of what I am,” I replied. “It’s how things must be, and how the universe can keep living. These cycles come in waves, Small One, and this one is just a speck of dust in an ocean of stars.” 

I looked at the tiny being perched on my shoulder – the end result of billions of years of growth and change – and smiled. “And besides,” I said, “I have survived in you.”

I felt the tingling again, and knew that Bastyon was leaving. This universe would die out, fated to pull apart as the grip of gravity slowly gave way, with only blackness remaining. Blackness, cold, and me.

I shut my eyes for the last time, and waited for the end. This next universe would be different, and my death would be the catalyst to bring it about. I smiled, and waited, knowing that the next time I saw Bastyon would be through the eyes of the new seed of life – one that would spend another eternity waiting, watching, and hoping for him to appear once again.

So you wanna know what my book is about...

Hey guys!

I just finished writing the summary for Gift of the Shaper, and I figured I would share it with you since most of you don't really know what it's about. It's a quick little read, but I hope it gets you interested in reading the book beyond just because we're such good friends. (And we are such good friends).

And, by way of an update, the publishing process is rolling along smoothly. Indigo River just sent me the final manuscript for review (panicked screaming) before they send it to the layout team. This whole process has been exciting and new for me.

Anyways, without any further ado, here you go!

---

Armies will clash, and even gods will die…

For thousands of years, the Breaker of the Dawn has been locked away in the ethereal plane of the Otherworld. Now, a young blacksmith’s apprentice finds himself trapped in a war between the noble Athrani, a subset of humanity gifted with the ability to transmute matter, and the malevolent and powerful Khyth, who seek to free the ancient god from his prison.

When his father, Olson, is kidnapped, Thornton Woods and his childhood friend, Miera, must leave their small village of Highglade to find him. On their way they are joined by Ynara and Kethras, cat-like humanoids called Kienari, who use their skills as hunter/trackers to follow Olson’s trail. When it comes to light that one among them possesses the key to the Breaker’s release, Thornton and his friends must defy the might of the Khyth as armies on both sides collide in pursuit of the ultimate prize.

Gift of the Shaper chronicles the epic struggle between the existing forces of good and evil, with both sides vying for control of the key that unlocks the Otherworld. The very powers of creation and destruction hang in the balance, and only a heroic effort by Thornton and Miera, backed by the power of the Athrani, can possibly stop the Khyth from unleashing ruin — and the Breaker — upon their world.

Help me choose a prologue!

Hi friends,

I come to you as a humble, hopeful author-to-be. One of the missing pieces I have, before I can call the book "complete," is for me to make up my mind on what will be the first thing people read when they open the book. It has to grab attention (without giving too much away) and leave the reader wanting more.

So, with the help of my editor, Earl, I've narrowed the prologue down to two potential candidates, taken from the text of my book, and provided here for your enjoyment.

All I need from you is a vote on which one you'd rather see. Which one intrigues you more? Which one do you like better?

I have a lot of brilliant friends, and I trust your input implicitly. So, please, take about a minute (depending on how fast you read. If you have to read it out loud, chances are it will take longer) and let me know which one you prefer.

Without further ado, here are the two candidates!

1) In her two short years as an apprentice, she had only caught glimpses of the Otherworld. She had heard stories of its power, and of how it could be entered by using an artifact strong enough. But never in her life did Elyasha imagine that she would one day stand inside it. She felt the surging energy that had been there when she stepped on the Anvil of the Worldforge – energy that flowed through her when she trained in the art of Breaking. 
 Now, that energy was all around them, permeating the air and their bodies. It was almost to the point of discomfort. She found herself suddenly pushing it away – forcing it back, rejecting its allure. Something in the back of her mind told her that if she let it in, it might never stop.

Squinting, Yasha fixed her eyes on a dim point of light on the horizon. "He said to help you, whatever that means. Come on," she said as she waved him towards her. "I think I see where we need to go."


She couldn't quite tell, but it almost looked like the light was reaching up and clawing at the sky, waving around like the branches of a tree. "Maybe we can find some answers there."
 With Yasha in the lead, the two of them headed toward a speck in the distance, beckoned by an invisible force that seemed to pull them in – away from the Anvil and towards whatever it was that lay on the other end.

***
(Or, the second option)
***

2)  Mordha's hand trembled as she loosened her grip on the blade and looked at the Kienari before her. "I was so scared that day. Until then, death and cruelty had been strangers to me, yet suddenly they appeared before me in the flesh. Never before have I felt such relief and such terror at the same time." Her voice trembled with emotion. "I thought the creature that had appeared before me wanted nothing more than to slit my throat and the throat of my sister, as it had just done to our captors," she said. She closed her eyes in sorrow and turned her face to the ceiling. "It was a death I welcomed. I'd had enough of begging for my life."


***

The Road to Publication

I have some exciting news.

If you've been following my social media accounts you already know this, but as of December, 2016, I have signed a book deal with Indigo River Publishing and am gearing up to see GIFT OF THE SHAPER put into print!

In July, 2016, I took a deployment to West Africa. Since I had finished writing the book around May, I figured it was ready to be sent out to agents and publishing houses. After months of rejection letters (which I'd thoroughly braced myself for), the most exciting news of my life came in October when Indigo River reached out to me and said that they loved the idea of the book and wanted to see the manuscript. We traded emails back and forth -- which was tough sometimes as my own access was limited -- but after coming home from flying a combat support sortie, I got an email with a contract and some words of encouragement.

I couldn't believe it: I was about to become a published author.

The crazy part is, I had never imagined that I would get this far -- especially since this was my first book. It took a lot of time and solitude to write the book in the first place, and would take arguably just as much time and effort to comb through feedback from beta readers and test readers -- but as of today, we are rapidly approaching the finished product.

I'm working with a very good friend of mine, Mike Dains -- an Air Force vet as well -- who will be making the maps for me. I've also got an artist working on the cover, which I'm incredibly excited about. As time goes on and we approach the publication date, I hope to provide some updates here.

And, fittingly enough, I will most likely be deployed again by the time the book is ready to be published: I've recently been notified of an upcoming combat deployment (this will be number nine for me).

It hasn't been an easy road, but it's absolutely been worth it.

Thanks for stopping by, and I'll update when I can.

-Dave

CHARACTER PROFILE: Thornton Woods

Character profile: Thornton Woods

Hey guys! So I woke up about 10 minutes ago with a brainstorm, and I'm too tired to argue with myself so I'm just gonna roll with it. 

I thought it might be cool to do a weekly/monthly blog on characters from my book (which is available for free upon request). 

I don't have it all laid out just yet, but I think it's going to be more or less a character profile. I'll pull descriptions from the book for their physical features, but basically go off script for the rest. 

For the first entry, I think the most natural starting point is going to be our main character -- at least the first character we meet -- Thornton Woods. 

"Despite working alongside his father for nearly two decades, Thornton was still slow to get going. He could feel that the night had made a mess of his thick brown hair as he pushed it out of his face with a yawn. His strong jawline capped off what was otherwise a youthful face, light and even, with the firmness that came from years of exposure to open flame and molten steel."

So I'm going to let you in on a secret: when I wrote Thornton, I basically used myself as a basis. Granted, he's a better version of me in the fact that he's taller, more muscular, and clearly a better blacksmith, but the basic traits are there. He's got long brown hair that comes down just past his chin, and brown eyes to go with it. 

Thornton is a young man who is still living in the shadow of his father, Olson, who is unquestionably the better blacksmith. In fact that's one of the things that's mentioned about Olson in the early chapters: he's good enough to be known by name even outside of Derenar (the region of the world that they live in). So here's a young blacksmith's apprentice in his early-to-mid 20s who knows the trade after doing it for most of his life, yet is still essentially second fiddle to Olson -- his father -- on reputation alone. 

But one thing that makes Thornton special isn't so much a trait, but something he carries with him nonetheless: his hammer. 

"Its handle was carved from straight-grain white ash, giving it a lighter appearance, and the head of the hammer - a dark black steel that stood in stark contrast to the lightness of the handle - was as solid as the day it was crafted. In this sense, it was perfectly suited to be a striker's hammer: huge, heavy, and well-balanced. Hammers like it could be found in the hands of any blacksmith's assistant worth his salt."

And,

"Carved up and down the entire length of the solid white ash were intricate figures enveloped in smooth, swirling lines that gave the illusion of smoke. The years had eroded the surface and turned the deep grooves into shallow nooks, but the design was still largely visible: on one side was a figure holding a hammer above a forge, and on the opposite side was a second figure standing beneath a pillar looking at a shining star above him. Whenever Thornton looked at it, he felt a sense of power, and a sense of pride, knowing that his father had used it when he was small. His father wasn't sure where it came from, but he knew that it had been in the family for generations."

So you can tell right away from the description that the hammer is something special. And while Thornton may not know how, he certainly feels it. I like to think of the hammer as its own character, too. It doesn't have a personality per se, but it does have a bearing on the overall story. You'll have to read the book to find out just how, as I'd rather not just give it away all willy-nilly on some internet blog. 

But anyway, back to Thornton. 

He's spent most of his life growing up in the small village of Highglade, and the only exposure he has to "city life" is when he takes trips to Lusk, which is a few hours away by horse. And, like most boys (or men) his age, he has his eye on a girl. That girl is none other than Miera Mi'an, his childhood friend and a girl who holds a special place in his heart. 

Miera will have her own entry, but she bears mentioning here since she plays such a big role in Thornton's life. The two of them have a great relationship that's lasted years, which (as we all know) can complicate things when it comes to the "L" word. But despite that, they care deeply for one another. In fact, Miera thinks of Olson as a second father since her own passed away. So you can see how that could further complicate things. 

If there was one word I would use to describe Thornton it would be "selfless." He thinks of others first, and always considers them when making a plan. In this, he's something that I aspire to be and he represents the ideal model for how a man should treat others. Isn't fiction great? ;)

I hope this write up has provided you with a little more insight into Thornton -- who he is and why he acts the way he does. I'd like to make more of these, so if you have any comments, feel free to let me know!

-Dave

New Story! Chapter One

Hi everyone,

I caught the writing bug again. On top of the sequel to GIFT OF THE SHAPER, I also started writing something else that had been bouncing around in my head for a while. Instead of boring you with a long introduction, I'd rather get right into it. So here we go...