Character Preview- Andur

Anyone who has never wished for death has never truly lived.

 

Does that sound harsh to you?

 

It is. But it is true. I wish it weren’t so but it is. The universe is harsh; those who thrive it more so.

 

However, that doesn’t mean joy can’t be found.

 

As I put these thoughts down I am a woman of considerable age.

 

I have flown from one side of the Galaxy to the other. I’ve killed men and women of all races.

 

Often in defense, often for money. Occasionally, for vengeance.

 

By the values of all the Galaxy’s peoples and the tenants of all religions I am considered irredeemable.

 

I understand this. Being a thug, a war criminal, a religious fanatic, a pirate, an assassin, a bounty hunter, a turncoat and a thief- any of these are horrible vocations. I was all of them at one point in my life.

 

I was pushed into many by circumstance. Still, my actions are mine and the bad deeds far outweigh the redeeming ones.

 

Yet I have known joy and love. I have gained and lost them and come close to turning my own lethal hands against myself.

 

Still, I am here to put these words down and share my story for those who care to know it.

 

I think perhaps, I am rambling a bit. Let me start with the basics.

 

Who am I? What am I? Where do I come from? What have I done?

 

Who am I?

 

My name is Andur. Many peoples of many races in our Galaxy have a surname. I do not, though I am sure my ancestors did at some point.

 

What am I? This is a complex question to me.

 

There are many answers I could give. Many answers you could give.

 

So I will tell you the two aspects of myself most others notice when they first meet me.

 

I am human. This is how Jideenians, Boroshians, Voshens, Centuri, the Bezon and all the other non-teren races of our Galaxy define me when I first meet them.

Some say we humans are judgmental, gruff, or if you follow Earth’s frequent conflicts with her neighbors, militaristic.

 

I will only say this in response: We are, but so is everyone else.

 

So, for better and worse, I am human. 

 

I am also a woman a female. This is usually the second thing noticed about me by non-humans. The first if I am among my own kind.

 

I have always been female. In body and spirit. I do not identify with any other gender, though sometimes I wish humans had more than one as other races do.

 

So now you know I am a woman.

 

There are many other aspects of what I am but that will be elaborated on later.

 

Now to the last two questions.

 

Where do I come from and what have I done with my terrible life? 

Dear Millenials Near Thirty- A Love Letter

 

 

Dear Millenials Near Thirty,

I know you've thought about that number.

You can admit it. You may have tried forgetting it... Nevertheless, it's there on the horizon.

 

And I want to tell you wherever you are, it's fine. That's the message I wanted to tell those of you who share my stage of life: in the latter days of their twenties with thirty on the horizon.

Turning twenty six two years ago increased my awareness of my age. Turning twenty seven has made that awareness ever more acute. Like most of you, I've dwelt more on this fact more often than I should have. I've looked over my life since college and made the mistake of comparing it to others. I wonder about different paths, different roads and I try and decipher the pictures on social media to see if friends from high-school or college are more or less content with themselves than I am.

I know you've done this too. We know we shouldn't make these comparisons. But we do. We're human and we have windows into the lives of others as no generation has had before.

In the end though, social media is just that a window. The realm of the internet is a trailer of a person's movie not the biopic of their entire life.

Since coming back to the States in  February I've been able to catch up with a number of my peers. Without the pressures of full time teaching I can finally make space to truly reconnect with all the people I'd lost touch with during my two years in Thailand. Whether over Skype or in the flesh the stories I've been told by friends have been as diverse as they have been insightful.

Some people have moved from one country to another, some have changed cities, some have started new careers or gone back to school, some have made a rapid ascent up the ladder.

Many have gotten married, some have gotten divorced, some have ended long relationships, some have moved back in with their parents, others have moved out.

And for some their world has not changed significantly at all. They remain in the same place they were two years ago, working the same job, living in the same house, together with the same person.

All these changes have been fascinating to learn about. Each life is so different and yet the one thing that holds us all together is that no one really feels like they have figured everything out. There's still, for most people I've talked to, a sense of uncertainty about their journey. For all the empty spaces we've filled in our lives, there remain vacancies. Some old some new.

A successful job but no relationship, a profession which brings money and prestige but no personal satisfaction, a fulfilling profession that doesn't pay quite enough to support a family.

We are fuller people. Yet we are also more aware than ever of the empty places in ourselves.

Yet, it's all alright. I'm here to write you that it's okay. I believe one day many of those holes will be filled and the few that remain will be become treasures to us.

Because the older we get the more comfortable we become with the weaknesses we have and prouder of the strengths we possess. I find myself loving the holes and vacancies in my life with new appreciation. We may never be full but that does not mean we are empty. It doesn't mean we can't live a life of meaning, purpose and contentment.

You are not alone in your uncertainty and ambiguity. That is what this decade is all about. :)

Much Love Fellow Almost Thirtysomethings,

Sean

What it Means to Publish- Thoughts on Releasing Part of Yourself to the World

'Vulnerable Heart' by Angela (pixeldust007)

I remember the first story I ever wrote. I was around nine and like many little boys in the 90s I loved Star Wars. One day, I decided to take a pencil and paper and write a story about how the rebels found their base on Hoth. The plot of this early fan-fic revolved around Luke Skywalker being shot down by a star destroyer. He crash landed on the ice planet and after wandering around trying to avoid snow troopers he found the massive cave complex that would provide the rebels with their haven.

Like so many kids, my initial enthusiasm for this passion waned and I never finished what I started. So many of my projects followed the same path over the next sixteen years. I finished some pieces. Sometimes I would take care of the first-draft, occasionally I would make it through an edit or two and there were a number of short Facebook notes, and blog-posts that I would share for the wider world. Yet there were so many other works that just sat half-baked and completely forgotten in a folder on my computer. And, until I finished the last edit of my Native American Fantasy novel, 'Only the Sky is Forever', I had never reached the stage of publishing a piece of fiction.

It's one thing to share what you've written with those close to you. That in and of itself is courageous in my opinion. Many of those who write never reach that stage and I understand why. Writing always comes from the soul. It's a segment of what goes on inside you. Showing part of the real you is never easy. However, putting your official stamp on something and telling the world 'Hey, this book I wrote, I want you to buy it.', that's even more daunting, at least to me. You're telling others, your voice is worth something. You're proclaiming that your soul, the piece of yourself that is etched in those words, is worth buying for three dollars.

As the author, you're intimidated. You have a much larger expectation to live up to. You're worried. You ask yourself many different questions: Is this story really worth sharing? Will anyone buy this part of me? Will anyone care? Will anyone absolutely despise it?

These thoughts went through my head at different times throughout the past few weeks as I thought about the imminent publication of my book. I have a feeling most authors have similar doubts at different times. Yet, the heart of why writers write, is never fame and fortune( plenty of us dream of it even if we won't admit it). It's because we are addicted to the act of creation. We are consumed by the desire to stir the caldron of potions in our head, add the right ingredients at the best times to make it as fine a brew as we can and finally pour what we've concocted out for the sake of watching it flow out onto the page or screen in front of us. This is the act that keeps us going even if what we write never wins a Pulitzer Prize or reaches anyone beyond a few friends.

It is gratifying to be read. I hope people do read this book I've written and are willing to pay for it. Yet the canvas I paint with my words is meant, first and foremost to be something I can look upon and smile at. And if others wish to smile at it with me, dismiss it or walk by without a glance they are welcome to. I'm just glad to be able to say to the world, 'it's here! it's finished!'

 

 

Only the Sky is Forever- Preview

Below is a short excerpt from my new book, 'Only the Sky is Forever'. It's the opening prolouge which provides the foundational story for the book's universe. 'Only the Sky is Forever' comes out this week exclusively on Amazon.

 The Making of the World

The Maker created our world and the two that came before it.

In the world before ours, the people of the land were powerful and blessed by the hands that made them. They lived well off the land. There was game to hunt in the forests, water to drink in the streams, corn to harvest in the fields.

But the people of the land grew greedy, proud and took much more than they needed. The animals and other creatures began to suffer and starve.

Seeking to rebuke them for their trespasses, the Maker appeared to the people of the land and gave them a warning.

'Take only what you need,” the Maker said. “Do not abuse the other creatures or each other and I shall promise to one day give you all my power and wisdom. Become greedy again, and I shall sweep you away and make a new people in your place.”

The people of the land consented to their Maker's offer, promising not to take as much as they had before.

Yet within a short time the people turned their backs on their promise, slaughtering all the animals, cutting the trees and spoiling the soil.

Enraged and saddened, the Maker took vengeance. From the Maker's shed tears Unktehi the horned water serpent of deconstruction was born. She covered the land in a flood, drowning the people.

When all were gone and the lands submerged, the Maker looked over the waters with the Sun above them. Playing four songs on a medicine lute, the Maker created a new world, the one we know today.

The first song, caused the earth to rise from beneath the waters

The second song, caused the mountains, trees and animals to rise from the earth.

The third song, brought forth the new people, other walking and speaking beings and those great spirits that are both human and animal.

The fourth song, removed the heart of Unktehi from her body which caused the great snake to fall into the lake on the top of Serpent Mountain where her body remains to this day.

The Maker hid Unktehi's heart, that the serpent could not return. To this day, the Maker keeps the new watch over the world and all those who inhabit it.