Ocean Promise

Standing in the chilly waters of the Pacific Ocean on my honeymoon, waves crashing against my shins and kneecaps, I made a promise. To myself, to the ocean. I will have three stories published in one year’s time. I have not told a single soul of this promise to the sea. I will reveal it when the third story is guaranteed publication. I will tell my wife. I will donate the proceeds from my third publication to an ocean preservation cause.

When I returned from the trip, a laser approach to learning how to write began. Orson Scott Card, Nancy Kress, Robert Tobias, Jack Bickham. I read and re-read their books a second time taking notes, first on paper, than transferred to a soft-copy. I have thought about it over and over in my head, everything they have written about the art and business of being a writer. I have bought issues of Asimov’s, Analog and Fantasy & Science Fiction since October now. I have read them all. I have discovered Bacigalupi and bought back issues containing his work.

I have discovered what makes me shout and scream, what thrills me, what hits me hard emotionally. I have discovered what bores me, what drives me insane, what makes me want to punch the author in the face for wasting my time. I am on a healthy kick of research that does not skim the surface, but dives deeply into what matters. I am listening more and more to what everyone has to say about anything. Their stories. I listen and in my mind I am converting and revising and editing. I have discovered the mass appeal of George R.R. Martin. I now see the necessity for the over-arching story mystery and the protagonist question. I see that without action-driven plot, you might as well a philosophical paper or some other boring piece of academic fustian that no soul alive would read. And for the unlucky few, they will be bored to tears. Don’t pontificate, but have an undercurrent of meaningful and emotional revelations. Epiphanies should happen like some subtle kernel that is only hinted at like a popcorn. The kernel no longer visible or there, but in that poetic fluff, that beautiful chaos, it permeates. The kernel is an optical illusion that has always been there, you only have to look a bit harder. Every line, every act, every thought from every character… they all fulfill the story question’s needs.