To Breathe on Titan

To Breathe on Titan
By Marc Eshleman

On a distant moon where the spheres doth glow and move in the alien sky,
Those stars that burn in a darkness which knows without an inkling why,
The empty spaces in between where travelers oft live or die,
Upon a distant moon where the spheres doth glow and move in that alien sky.

Yet looking upon that sky of ours,
Where our humans eyes could be lost for hours,
Sifting star upon star from that sandy, glittering beach above,
Ever wonder at the skies of those planets who you count,
As dots among that burning, sparkling amount,
of diamonds or gems trapped in the crown of our sky?

Do you wonder on those foreign landscapes, their dusty and rocky grounds,
How the hills do rise and the valleys fall beneath the crusty mounds?
To walk those valleys and explore those hills and feel the pressure of nothing,
And seek the lost amongst the gone, and wonder if it is worth looking?

Have you ever wanted to know what it would be like to breathe on the surface of Titan?

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! My Thanksgiving went well, if it was a little quiet. A delicious meal was shared with my family and then I went to bed. It was a fun time.

The novel goes well, though I haven't made much progress since the last time I talked to you guys about it. Being Thanksgiving Break I thought I would take a break and just relax for a bit. I plan to begin again on my book after break is over. Until then I thought I'd give you guys a sample of my poetry to read over and enjoy!

Have a good break everyone!

Writing for my future,
Marc Eshleman

Life, Homework, and The Library

Hello everyone! It's been a while since we've had the pleasure of discussing my life, so I thought I'd drop in and let you all know how I'm doing.

My NaNoWriMo project is basically over. The past week or so has been very busy for me, as various projects have been tossed on my shoulders by my teachers. It's been a difficult time. That's not to say that I'm done trying to write the book. On the contrary, my efforts shall continue in that direction, but the likelyhood of writing 50,000 words in the alloted time of NaNo has fallen like a wounded falcon who has just been struck by a meteor. The book will be finished. I don't think I could avoid doing something that makes me feel so right with the world.

In other interesting news, something occurred to me a while back that I thought I would try. Maybe you guys would like to give it a shot as well, though be warned it a bit of an odd thing to do.

I've always been amazed at the minds ability to visualize an environment, something that I'm quite familiar with as a fairly avid reader. This idea occurred to me as I pondered the phrase 'go to your happy place' on my way to art class one Tuesday morning. I wasn't pondering this phrase for any particular reason, it's just that when I walk to and from my classes, my mind tends to wander just as far as I am.

Anyway, I was thinking about that phrase and a question occurred to me in that one moment, "What if I could create a permanent, imaginary environment? A place that lives in my imagination, somewhere I can go to literally get lost in thought. Wouldn't that be an interesting experiment."

And thus was born The Library. It didn't take me long to figure out it's general form and shape. I fashioned a library, with thousands upon thousands of books filling the shelves, dusty with neglect. I don't honestly know how big the place is yet, because I've yet to explore very deeply. I haven't gone more then a few aisles in. The rim of the library is dotted periodically with private bedrooms that usually contain some number of matches and candles. It is a rim as the walls of the building are curved. I suspect that the whole thing is one large dome, though one too massive for me to see with the light of the candles that I find. The main part of the library isn't lit by anything, that I can see anyway, and the bookshelves themselves rise beyond the limit of my sight as well.

Overall I suppose it's a rather imposing place, though the thought of it makes me feel rather comfortable. As to the contents of the books therein, I imagine that some of them are records and memories, while others contain dreams, and yet still others are books I have yet to write. Not sure what section I'm in at the moment as I have yet to actually pick up any of the books. Usually, when I spend time there, I spend it searching the aisle and exploring. Truthfully, I suppose that The Library represents the whole of my mind, and as such sometines I wonder what I'll find in there. What ideas could fill up all of these books? What characters and creatures stalk the aisles? Moreover, whats at the very center of it all?

As I explore, I hope to find the answers to these questions and more. It's not that I couldn't answer them now, I suppose, but rather that I don't currently have any possibilities that I think are worthy of being the proper answer. When I do, I'll have just have one more question answered.

Now, to do what I was born to do.

Writing for my Future,
Marc Eshleman

The Secret Knots: Comics about things we do without knowing why

First an update!

Chapter 2: The Playground- Finished
Word Count: 7,231
Words behind: 7,769

Will I be able to catch up? Maybe. I'll definitely try. Either way I'm alright with it. Writing this book was going to take longer then a month anyway. :P

Now onto the main thing I wanted to talk about today!

Many of you know that I enjoy a variety of webcomics that I check every morning Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. My favorite one thus far is one called Gunnerkrigg Court(http://www.gunnerkrigg.com/archive_page.php?comicID=1). It was while checking that comic this morning that I came across another comic, one that captured my imagination.

http://www.thesecretknots.com/

The artist and writer of the comic is Juan Santapau who is a resident of Santiago, Chile. He updates whenever he's finished with the next part of the comic and doesn't try and force it. However, unlike most webcomics, there isn't a large interconnected storyline. Most pages are stand alone stories, though a few chain into each other to make slightly larger story arcs.

The reason I'm bringing this webcomic to your attention is quite simple. I haven't read fiction this whimsical, magical, and thought provoking in my entire life. The world in which all of his stories take place is one in which the line between fantasy and reality is blurred considerably. The people that tend to populate it are quiet and introspective, and often have some sort of bizzare happenstance in their lives that they just take for granted.

Things like midnight discussions with ghosts, a lost body of work from a composer whose music could make you taste the sweet flavor of lemon pie or feel the texture of a white handkerchief, to the story about a childhood lost and regained because of the truth fairy.

These small bits of creative writing and art flow together, their styles complimentary in the very best sense. The stories tend to leave you in wonder, wanting to ponder on their subject matter longer, ruminating in the flavors of the story. I highly reccomend it for anyone who wants to spend some time in a world where fiction and impossibility gently bobs up behind every corner, like a balloon inching its way further up a ceiling.

Chapter 1: Rusted Memories IS FINISHED!!!

Well, here we are at the start of week 2!

The weekend was pretty hard to work through, and I didn't end up getting many words down at all, which has put me rather far behind. Luckily it is not inconquerable. In order to finish on time, I'm going to have to write 1,867 words a day. That'll be rather difficult, but I think I can do it, and even if I don't I'm definitely farther into any attempt at writing a novel then I've ever been before. : )

Current word count: 5,212.
Chapter 1: Rusted Memories is finished.



What I learned from Chapter 1:

1. I don't know very much about working in a library.
2. I don't know very much about working in 'business'.
3. I don't know very much about football.
4. I don't know how to write women at all.
5. I can't write brothers well either.
6. I can write best friends alright, but that definitely still needs work.
7. DIALOGUE, I HATE YOU!!!!!!!




Not sure what I'm going to name chapter two yet, but that should be easier to write as I have it outline much better. As I keep writing I'm going to have to forward the outline that I'm keeping in my rather large black book. It's only up to chapter 5, though it does have a lot of information in it. This is going to be a very, very big book, and I think I'll be lucky to truly finish it in under a year. Still, the march to 50,000 words goes on!

Onward I shall go! TO VICTORY!!!!

And so it BEGINS!

Well! Here we are! End of day one. Last night I stayed up until midnight and then spent a hour writing the beginning of my novel. It probably wasn't the best idea, but I found myself too excited to go to sleep. I'll just have to go back later and fix that quality of writing. Oh well, so is the life of a writer.

My first few sessions of writing were sort of bumpy. It's been too long since I read anything or wrote anything, and as a result I was pretty rusty at first. My sentences were simple and a little undefined. My thoughts didn't come through very clearly. However, I found my stride when I sat down to write the rest of my daily allotment. I just sat there, plunking away, focused on my work for a solid hour. I must say it felt pretty good!

Also, just so you guys know, I wouldn't expect anything like the other updates have been. Contemplative blog posts are for when I'm not in the middle of NaNoWriMo. They'll be back at the end of November though, promise.

So, end of day one. Here is where I stand so far.

Chapter 1: Rusted Memories
Word Count: 2300

I'll probably add a little bit more to it tonight that way I don't have to do as much tomorrow to reach my daily allotment. Tomorrow will be a pretty big writing day for me though. I've only got one class, so I'm sure I'll have some pretty darn sore typing fingers by the end of it.

Writing for the Future,
Marc Eshleman

A Writer Through and Through

NaNoWriMo countdown: 1 day, 2 hours, 9 minutes and 48 seconds.

Evening everyone! It feels really late to me right now even though it's just before 10 PM. I stayed up too late last night and then spent too much energy this afternoon. You see, after church I went shopping and picked up some new pencils and a journal with which to outline my future novels in.

I figured I'd start with the one I'm writing now and just copy it over into the journal. After all, my math notebook is not a good neighborhood for my novel to grow up in. So I began to copy over the outline. Before I knew it, I was changing things, adding tweaks here and there, and generally writing a much more in depth outline. Five hours later and I've expanded upon the first section of my novel by a HUGE amount as well as built up a resistance to hand cramps. If I had any doubt I was a writer, it has been cleansed from me through the firery kiln of storybuilding.

Aside from letting you guys know that I've effecitvely pulled four pages worth of an outline out of an empty spot in my original outline, I really don't have another purpose here. I got some really good stuff today, stuff that I hope can make it into the final copy of the book.

Also more and more people are expressing interest in what my book will be when it's finished. This is extremely encouraging, and I am VERY much looking forward to when I can start selling this sucker. If I can ever start selling it.

Writing for my Future,
Marc Eshleman

Anxiety, Fear, and other Diseases

Good evening everyone!

I thought I would drop in and let you guys know a bit about whats going on with me at the moment, as well as talk about some of the strange mixture of emotions I seem to be going through recently.

I have basically decided that I'm no longer going to be a teacher, and instead I'm going to do my darnedest to be a novelist. That decision has been slightly troubling to me, as it basically represents the largest risk I've ever taken in my life. I've deviated from the 'safe' path that I ordained for myself in early high school. I'm risking my whole future on the next year, betting against all odds that I'll be able to produce something worth reading, and even publishing.

I honestly would have made the decision ages ago, except for the fact that I was afraid. You see, as long as I was travelling down that 'safe' path, I was just that. Safe. Moderately sure I would get a job, moderately sure I would like that job. I was willing to take that higher chance of job security over the skills God had given me. Why? Well, what would it mean if I were to fail? I would have wasted large stretches of my life putting effort into something that really wouldn't have made a difference. I was afraid that no one would want to hear what I would have to say, and I would be confirmed as good for nothing, literally having almost no other talents.I used to say, better 'safe' then sorry.

So, having finally made that decision, here I am, worrying about exactly the same thing. What if my book is horrible? What if no one wants to read it? What if it doesn't get published? What if it does get published and doesn't sell at all? Will this prove my own insignificance?

On top of all of this, one of my favorite online personalities and role model, John Green is coming out with a new book very soon called The Fault in Our Stars. Even though it is not quite out yet, he did a reading of the first chapter on youtube.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_vFvbfn9Fs&feature=feedu

I highly reccommend you watch it. It would be a something to regret if you didn't.

Now, it's very good. As a reader, I love that. I rather want to buy that book now, having heard the first chapter. This troubles me as a writer. However much I know I shouldn't, I compare. I compare that thing of true literary beauty to my unwritten, unfinished, and unrefined book. I find that quality of writing beyond me. Of course, my mind starts asking the what if's, and I find myself stuck with a serious case of Author Envy.

This has left me in a basic state of unrest for most of the evening, going back and forth between the computer and some mindless video game to distract me, until I found that they could distract me no longer. This anxiety, this fear, and this envy are all things that I'm going to have to deal with in their own times. The fear isn't conquered even though I've made that decision, the anxiety will likely plague me for a long time whether I'm successful or not, and the envy will also likely stick with me forever. They will be things that I will just have to deal with.

But you know what the most important part of this whole thing is? I'm feeling something, anything at all. And that makes me feel alive. That is why I know that I've made the right decision, and despite all my worries, fears, and envy's, I am doing exactly as I should be doing.

Three more days, as the clock ticks, until NaNo. I've never been more anxious or more excited in my life. :)

Writing for the Future,
Marc Eshleman

Writing, Characters and Core Beliefs

Hello everyone! It's been a long time since I've posted, and I'm sorry for that. Life threw me some fast balls these past few days and I've been struggling to keep up. This has been the first time I've been able to set myself down in front of the computer for a proper blog post that isn't just, "Oh hey, I have ten minutes and I'm not really going to say anything important".

It also coincided with a bit of a poor writing spell in my novel preparations. I tried to flesh out the last section in a deeper way, and I wasn't getting anywhere that made much sense. The root of the problem was that I didn't know my characters. This has been an area that my writing has really lacked in so far. Since I've never really written long stories before, none of my characters have been in depth at all, and have only really served to progress the plot.

My early attempts to give my characters depth was to assign them basic traits. Loyal, athletic, protective, etc., etc. While trying to flesh out that last section, my main character was having trouble finding the next step in the adventure, At the time I didn't recognize the problem, so I just quit trying to write it and told myself that I would come back for it later.

Over the weekend, I learned something about people. Sure, they have traits like hard working, or athletic or protective, but they don't just have them. Those traits are based on a a set of core beliefs that that person keeps deep within themselves. Sometimes they don't even know they have them. Then, I realized why I couldn't progress in the story.

My characters didn't have a set of core beliefs to dictate their actions/traits. Without that set of core beliefs, they would always be empty shells trying to be a person. After that, I tried writing it again, and low and behold, my main character knew precisely what to do next. Suddenly a whole new chain of events was born, dragging an entirely new plot arc into existence! It really was quite brillant, and it excited me all over again for this story.

In other news, my writing totem project hasn't progressed at all. I ended up using this weekend to catch up with some old friends who have been off to college for a while. I've figured out that I do want to engrave some stones with something meaningful, but I'm not exactly sure what that is yet.

Also, I've worked a bit on the title for my book, and I'm starting to favor a pair of names.

Take Solace

Or...


A Shepherd and His Flock

I've changed the working title to the second one, so at least I have a working title I like. I'm getting more and more excited for this whole project as November approaches and my emotions seem to enjoy rollercoasters much more then I do. At times I just can't wait to get started and I really think that it's gonna be really good, and other times I look at what I've prepared and cry silently to myself about how terrible my book's gonna be(slight exaggeration).

Well, good or bad there's no point in going back now! TALLY-HO! :D

Writing my Future,
Marc Eshleman

The Approaching Storm

NaNoWriMo quickly approaches and I find that I have a lot of work to do on my outline. I have approximately 12 more days until I have begin writing this thing. These last few days I've worked only on the bits and pieces of my outline and as the date of my testing approaches I find myself a little worried, especially about the end. The rest of the novel is pretty well fleshed out, though the in-between is a little sparse just because I want to keep it open to experimentation.

I'm at a place where I'm just not sure what the next logical step is. I'll spend this afternoon working on it, hoping that I can come up with something acceptable. At least a place holder until I actually get there.

Anyway, I figure its about time I release some information on my novel, like the title and the format. It's only a working title, but it does it's job pretty well for the moment. It definitely won't be the final product's name. The book itself will be broken up into several sections that in turn will be broken up into chapters. Each section will have an over-arching theme as described by the section's title. These titles are also subject to change.

Title: Waldgeist

Section 1- Remembering
Section 2- Journey
Section 3- Resistance
Section 4- Searching

On Writing Totems

 

I have recently come across the concept of a writing totem, which is basically a small object that you can carry around which helps you get into your train of thought. Basically it's just used to mentally trigger that writing state of mind. I've considered getting one, but I'm at a loss for what I could use. I spent some time thinking about it the day before yesterday, and I'm still technically searching for one.

I think I would have to make it myself(likely) or have it made(unlikely) in order for it to be truly effective. You know, so it's unique. I'll spend some more time thinking about it, as I'm still not sure if I want to even use one. We'll see.


Thats about everything thats been happening with me in the writing part of my life, so I'll sign off for now and talk to you guys later.

Writing my future,

Marc Eshleman

Writing Prompt 1: Deep-Rooted

Today I discovered that they post daily writing prompts in a certain forum on the NaNoWriMo website! So, in the spirit of practice, I picked one of them and wrote a whole short story based on it.

The prompt was simply this: deep-rooted.
And this is what I wrote!

         Deep-Rooted

       A Tale by Marc Eshleman

                The moon shone as a pearl in the black, silken sky, clouds drifting lazily through its inky blackness. The forest lay, sunken into the valley as if pressured by the star speckled sky above. Its branches extended in all directions, tree's touching trees, roots entangled and knotted together. If one didn't know better, you might think that it was all one organism, stretched across the rolling mountains of the Pennsylvanian landscape.

                The dirt road that ran through the forest was nearly overgrown, yet the blue truck's suspension seemed to be able to handle it. Thomas pressed on the accelerator as the truck bounded over the root infested road bed. As he drove, his mind wandered to his many childhood memories spent in this place. He had grown up in the town just a few miles down the road. It was a small, closely knit community with only a handful of children. Everyone had known each other, and kids, Jerry, Susie, David, Gretchen, Laura and himself, had all been friends. You couldn't afford to have enemies in that town. As children they played after school, exploring the surrounding woods and mountains. The only rule that held back their explorations had been one that all of their parents gave.

                "Don't go into eastern valley."

                It was a simple rule, one easily followed. Back in those days there were many places to explore, and the eastern valley couldn't be any more or less interesting then everywhere else. Besides, the punishments involved were fierce. David had once tried to go, but had gotten caught. His father beat him something terrible and David wasn't back in school for weeks. So their youthful explorations were curbed, and they stayed away. Like most things, however, it could not last.

                They group grew up and became rebellious teens as children with strict parents are wont to do. They become bored with their drinking hollows in the other bits of the forest, so one evening they decided that the best place to drink on a Friday night was the eastern valley.

                Thomas' attention was snapped back to his driving when his truck bounced a bit too far, and he banged his head on the roof of his car. He slammed on the break and paused to nurse the new bruise on his forehead. Thomas looked around and realized that he was precisely where he needed to be. Stepping out of his car, he reached into the truck bed and grabbed his tools. He began to walk amongst those twisted and knurled trees, stepping over the roots that almost seemed to be reaching out for his feet.

                As he wandered, memories of that night started to come back to him. The laughter around the campfire, the warm feel of the beer in his stomach. They began to pair off then, after the campfire died down, each one trying to find their own private corners of the forest without straying too far from the campfire. It was the start to a good evening.

                
                Then the memories started to come in flashes. Susie screaming. David struggling over a nearby trunk with his forearm cut off at the elbow. Gretchen, half naked, tripping over an extended root. Jerry, almost unrecognizable with the right side of his face crushed in and his brains spread out on the ground below. Laura struggling to run with a shattered knee, falling and impaling herself on a dead branch through her middle. Blood. God, so much blood. Absent mindedly Thomas reached and rubbed the knuckles on his right hand, which was missing most of its fingers.

                Thomas looked up into the branches as he walked onward. He began to see bones strewn among them, and more on the forest floor. Some were bleached white with age, while others looked as if they still had marrow in them.

"I'm getting closer."

                As Thomas walked on, the trees began to creak and branches shifted as if in a breeze. The air turned warmer and felt a bit more moist. Strange noises began to echo through the valley around him. Screams and unearthly growls were carried around on a breeze that wasn't there. Turning another corner, the branches above him closed in and blotted out the sky. Thomas flicked on his flashlight and kept walking.

                Suddenly, everything was silent. The tree's no longer creaked and the odd sounds no longer echoed. Thomas stopped. He turned up his flashlight and revealed a massive oak tree. Its branches were bare and gnarled, twisting like a maze and interlocking with branches of the nearby trees. Thomas stepped forward and set down the gasoline tank with a slosh. The only sound that now rose to Thomas' ears was a deep, thumping noise. A noise which echoed the sound within his own chest.

                "You've lived here for a long time haven't you? You settled in and stretch your roots deep. I wonder just how many thousands of years you've seen, how many you've taken. The police didn't believe my story. In fact the only ones who did were the townsfolk, but they wouldn't say anything. They couldn't say anything. The doctors that they sent me to always tried to convince me that I had killed them. I remembered what they wanted me to forget. So I'm here, to finish things once and for all."

                Reaching for the gas tank, Thomas unscrewed it and doused the tree before him. Spinning around, he emptied the gas tank as quickly as he could on the other trees around him. He dropped the gas tank and then reached into his pocket, grabbing the box of matches that he had brought. Thomas paused for a second, looked around, and then struck the match.

                An unearthly howl exploded from the eastern valley and filled the night sky. The sound was so loud that it brought Thomas to his knees. Covering his ears, he stood up, only to feel a root tear itself up from the ground and wrap around his ankle. It pulled him over and dragged him across the burning forest floor. Grabbing the axe he kept on his belt, he swung and chopped the root on his ankle clean through.

            
                Thomas stood and tried to make a run for his car, but suddenly a branch came down and wrapped around his waist. Hoisting him up and closer to itself, he saw that the forest was not still any more. Every tree branch writhed in the air and the roots moved so violently that the ground was totally impassable. The bark split of the old oak split and revealed the creature's maw. Filled with hundreds of wooden spikes and dripping with sap, the mouth stretched wide, ready. As he stared, Thomas saw a dark red shape beat feverishly beyond the teeth. He gripped his axe.

                Swinging him forward, the branch let go, tossing Thomas into the creatures gaping mouth. As soon as he could, he gripped some of the spikes around the side and pushed himself deeper within the creature. He felt the mouth close around his legs, piercing them thousands of times and crushing his bones. Thomas screamed, and with his final breath, grimaced and heaved his axe deep within the creature’s heart.

----

The Pennsylvania Post

Late last night a fire broke out a few miles north of Forest Hill. Witness reports say that they saw a blue truck drive over there about 45 minutes before the fire was noticed by officials. Firefighters could not quell the fire before it consumed a valley's worth of trees. The chief firefighter had this to say:

"This is certainly a sad day for those who love the forests of our great state. The fire seems to have burned down some of the oldest trees on record, including an oak tree which had been estimated to be 1500 years old."

No official word yet on who may have started the fire and if they've been caught, but considering that a blue truck has been recovered in part of the burnt forest, it seems unlikely that the perpetrator will ever be caught alive.

So what did you guys think? Was it pretty good?

Happy Saturday everyone! :)

Writing for Fun,

Marc Eshleman

The Start of Something

I haven't been posting recently because I rather prefer to take breaks from working on my book now, since I won't really be able to later. However, during the space between my morning class and my noon class, I worked on fleshing out the beginning of the story. Built what I wanted it to be like, and even gave it a brand spanking new name!

The creation of this scene didn't happen exactly as the others had. The words didn't just flow out of my brain and onto the page; instead I had to pause and consider the rammifications of my choices. I was confronted by that ugly thing that keeps me from starting many stories. How does it begin? What is the initial incident? What drives the main character on?

My mind mapped out several ways I could go, and what they might lead to. I eventually settled with one and built the story on that. It worked out perfectly, and instead of contradicting the later sections of the book like I had feared it might, it actually helped me flesh them out quite a bit.

Once again, I am confronted by the wisdom of , "Just write." There is no way to find out if something will fit what you've already written until you write it in and compare.

Happy weekend everyone!

Writing for the Future,
Marc Eshleman

Under the Terrible Burden of Destiny

I woke up this morning at about 8:00 in the AM, wishing I could have slept in longer, and wandered my way downstairs. There, I had a passing conversation with my parents as they left do some morning cleaning and I quickly settled down in front of the computer to pass the early morning in distraction.

As the clock ticked the minutes away, I found myself in more of a contemplative mood then I was expecting. Perhaps it was the early morning fog that was slowly wasting away beyond the scope of my perception, or maybe it was the slowly approaching end of my time on this Earth, brought to the forefront of my thoughts due to my age increasing my a full digit today.

In any case, I shortly found myself sifting through the vlogbrothers channel on youtube, a channel used by two brothers to communicate to each other concerning that which mattered to them that day. The videos tend to have a smattering of humor and seem to prove a point at sometime or another, overall being rather entertaining and occasionally thought provoking. I don't always agree with said provoked thoughts, but it always makes me think regardless, which I find a fantastic reason to spend four minutes of my life watching them.

And so it was that I came across this video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4OxgTfZw1g0

This particular video stood out to me. At first I didn't understand why, all I could say was that the point it was trying to prove had vaguely something to do with my current mood or preoccupations. So I sat there, considering the ways in which it could be related to me and it all boiled down to the one phrase. Under the terrible burden of destiny. This phrase is apart of the greater text of a poem called Chicago written by Carl Sandburg in 1916.

I realized that this is precisely what I am at the moment. Struggling underneath the massive, vast weight of my future, coming to grips with the importance of every decision that I make by denying it that importance. This 'terrible burden of destiny' being everything that is yet to happen. It is a weight that simply pulls me onward toward choosing a profession, graduating from college, getting married, having children, and eventually, dying.

This weight pulls me onward, all the while asking me, "Will you be remembered? Will you do anything important? Does it all really matter?" The terrible burden of destiny is more then just the force driving me onward, but also, and perhaps more importantly, the desire to do something with my life.

However, there is more to that phrase. The full line of that poem says, "Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young man laughs". The idea that despite, or rather, because of the looming inevitability of change and death, we laugh a careless, daring laugh of a young man in the very throes of life.

With that I realized that this book, and indeed, all books that I will write throughout the course of my life is me, laughing. Laughing in the face of that inevitability, daring it to come. Because the world will change, I will die, and everything about me will pass away, much like that early morning fog. But because of my relationship with God, the words that go into my books will last forever, as will I.


And so here I am, under the terrible burden of destiny, laughing as a young man laughs, feeling less and less burdened with each laugh. Hoping that, maybe, just maybe, because of my laughter, others will join with me.

Have a good Monday everyone!

Writing for my Future,
Marc Eshleman

Just an Update

Hello everyone! The blog is back!

Sorry I did not post yesterday, I just couldn't end up finding the time needed. I did however work on my book! I finished outlining the story and worked out some really cool story arcs that I hadn't considered before. This blog isn't going to be long, as it's late and I haven't been sleeping enough for the past few days, so I hope to catch up on that tonight, because I probably won't this weekend. :p

Well, thats really about it. I'll see you guys tomorrow!

Living to Write,
Marc Eshleman

A Tornado of Literary Energy

Yesterday, my first post was put up sometime after 10:30 at night, created after just signing up for NaNoWriMo. I did not truly feel the affect of that decision until this afternoon, just before 1:15 PM. It was at that point that I realized what I had just done.

 By all accounts, thus far in my life I have been a lazy writer. I have written, yes, but not with the frequency or quality I ought to be. And here I am, throwing myself completely and utterly into the creation of a full length novel, of at least 50,000 words? I must be insane. I must be absolutely and irrevocably insane! And you know what? It has never felt better! :D

Simply by commiting to this I have redrawn the boundaries I have in my head that previously dictated what I could do. Instead of thinking about it, wanting to do it, or wishing I already had done it, I am actively doing it. I have broken down the boundaries and rules that have been self-imposed for far, far too long, and now I feel like I could do absolutely anything. And I love that feeling. The only question left is, how do I start?

The answer to that question is, actually, rather simple. The rules of the contest state that you cannot start writing until November 1st. However, you can build an outline. So that is what I've begun to do. Today I separated my book into four parts, each part containing five chapters, and each chapter at least ten pages. I have outlined what I want to do with the first two parts of the book, and only the last two parts remain. After that I intend to work on developing my characters and coming up with more potential plot arcs, just for fun, until November 1st rolls around. Then, ready or not, it's time to jump head first into the maelstrom and ride those rough currents of literary energy, daring the gale to blow ever harder and the waters to spiral ever stronger.

How you guys can help:

1. I will be posting a blog everday commenting on my progress and my thoughts of that day. If there comes a time when I do not have a blog posted, you guys need to badger me about it. Even if I didn't write that day, I need to tell you guys WHY I didn't write.

2. When I start circulating rough drafts amoungst you, please tell me what you think honestly. I can't improve it properly if I'm not told that you think it's horrendous. If you really do think it's horrendous, that is.

Also, one last note, could those who are keeping track of this blog and actually reading the posts comment on one of these posts? I would like to get an idea of how many, and who I'm talking to with these things. If, for some reason you can't comment send me a message on facebook letting me know. Thanks a bunch!

Writing my Future,
Marc Eshleman

The "One Day" Syndrome

The One Day Syndrome- A disorder that occurs often in the common people. The idea that they will do something "one day" and what they want to do never is quite started.


This is a disorder that has affected me for most of my life, especially concerning a particular action. Writing. I've always wanted to write, and sometimes I even have, but for the most part I consider writing something that I will do 'one day'. Today I spent some time thinking about what would happen if that day never came. It would be such a massive disappointment for myself that I have been spurred into action!

This blog is here to announce to my family members and friends that I will be taking part in NaNoWriMo! Or rather, National Novel Writing Month! The goal of this 'contest' of sorts is to write a complete novel between November 1st and November 30th, or at least 50,000 words. Through this blog I will keep everyone up on my progress, writing a blog everyday in order to do so.

After the month of writing is over, revision will begin, and hopefully a month or two after that I will have something that resembles a final draft that I can start handing around for you guys to read and tell me what you think, unless of course you'd prefer not to get one.

If any one of you also wishes to participate, I highly reccomend it! It is a month of literary abandon, and I hear tell that it quite a few entertaining things can happen herein. Here is a link to the main website where you can sign up!

http://www.nanowrimo.org/

And now it is time to sign off. Expect a post tomorrow, vaguely talking about how I am preparing to tackle this project and how you guys can help me, if want to. See you all later!

Writing my Future,
Marc Eshleman