A home for my words

“I could sit in the middle of Sunset Boulevard and write with my typewriter on my knees.” Louis L’Amour once said. “Temperamental I am not.”

I grew up seeing those words as the terrifying mark of a great storyteller: someone so engrossed in the flow of the art that their surroundings became something lesser. And this transcendent state too often eluded me.

Later, advice from Stephen King, Jim Butcher and other greats provided a different way to parse L’Amour’s words: as a challenge. A quiet prompt to let go of all preciousness and pretension. To write, because you write, irrespective of where you are or how you’re feeling.

This distinction matters, because otherwise environment too easily becomes justification for procrastination and defeatism.

Those writers are simply better, that’s why they can write anywhere/are so prolific/are so inspiring, yet eternally beyond my reach. When my internal monologue offers such helpful input, I now edit it. Because they choose to write anywhere, those writers are prolific and have grown great, and if I let their example inspire me, my writing might grow in kind.

My favourite place to write, then, is beside my sleeping wife at 2amsuffocating under the sheets to shield her from the light — tapping a sudden turn of phrase into my phone before it’s snatched away by slumber.

It’s sitting on the beach where I first encountered heartbreak, scribbling in a notebook and letting those long-ago stirrings play with the pen.

It’s at my desk, internet blocked, and a list of chapter outlines on the screen.

Desk, dark, couch, mountain, café: there are places that colour my writing, and places that facilitate the craft, but any environment can provide both context and constraint, which is the space in which writing feels truly at home.

This article was first published in The Writing Cooperative on Medium.com, and won the 2016 Autumn Writing Challenge.

Phase Three Pre-orders

I’m pleased to announce that I’ve been working on a new stand-alone novel, and trialling a new distribution model to accompany it.

Phase Three is a science-fiction story that explores a near-future Earth and the implications of our emergent technologies through the eyes of four unique characters. It’s still in draft form, so the blurb is currently a little vague to avoid spoilers, but here goes:

Cover-PhaseThree-DraftThe world has an addiction. Augmenting reality – augmenting ourselves – averted a looming energy crisis, but it has become something more than that. “Overnight equality,” promises the slogan, and what’s a decade or two between advertisers?

We redefined what it means to be human, then bought our own bullshit retail.

But the physical world still exists, however much we stare into the infinite. People yet remain, living outside the reality bubbles we create. And so do the consequences of our inattention.

Three individuals, each a casualty of flawed implementation, face intimate, inconsequential decisions in pursuit of their goals. Then there’s Gordon, who simply wants to escape his past without being killed.

And their actions could unravel the world. Or save it.

Sound good? Want more? Well, you can read a sample chapter and meet the characters at the link below. Better yet, you can pre-order a copy (or three) and help bring Phase Three to life.

Read and support here: www.inkshares.com/books/phase-three-2584

You can also read my interview with The Warbler, a book review blog that’s also worth checking out, which touches on the background of Phase Three and my reasons for choosing to trial the Inkshares model.

The Warbler interview here: www.thewarblerbooks.com/featured-author-peter-ravlich/

Poetry round-up – April 2016

Below you can find a few of the Twitter poems I’ve posted over the last month.

I’ve been hard at work revising the second volume in The Fallen Mythos, but I’m taking some time to refocus on my science fiction novel in progress, which happens to fit the bill for the Geek & Sundry Hard Science Contest. Starting April 4 (or 5, local time) I’ll be spamming you all with plenty of info, and I’ll create a separate post once that’s up and running.

When writing poems for Twitter, the character limit doesn’t often leave space for a title (or I’m just greedy) so the poems with single-word titles are titled with the prompts themselves, whereas I cheated and posted the remaining poems as images.

Promptless

I string the tinsel
haplessly
on a branch
without a tree –
or a tree without
a bough –
and wonder where
it glimmers now?


Striking

What strikes
me the least –
aside from my wife,
she says –
is the blow
that foiled expectations
are meant to land.


Ignition

To touch
the fuse
then stand
in silent mastery –
or subtle self-deception –
as the flame ignites
and your eyes
burn


Of your former self

Tap, drop, sear
me and I will shatter
shards of viscous
potential broken
exposed and raw

but when you hit
that singular
solid place
the one
that will not be moved
the one
you always find
your fiercest blow
is but a breath


Ethereal verse

The sidewalk slick with druken dreams
– or sick, look out – don’t stand in it!
While poetry caresses scenes
your feet can tread in real shit.

So what’s the humble scribe to pen,
or arsehole, if we’re being fair?
Retire your lofty muses, then,
and let the shit be the idea.

There must be more, your instincts say –
the world a radiant, hopeful sphere,
and pretty words can still convey
the miracle of being here –

Yet even now, your shoes are stick,
and wiping reaffirms the smell;
So see the beauty in the muck:
Aim for heaven, but speak from hell.


Consensual text

“It wasn’t defiance my dear
when I said I’d prefer to wait.
If a no is so hard to hear
that you have to negotiate –
your rhetoric urging me try
and unpacking your need to mate –
then I’d better revise my reply,
’cause I’m now in a passionate state:
Go fuck yourself,” she said –
but her tone made the means
deflate.

They call it torture

When the droplet

falls

over and over
charting illusory impressions
on your face

So why is
your memory the illusion
that draws these droplets
from my eyes?

And where is the torture,
if not in our grief,

the dropping,

and the late that
forms below?

So far so good

I’ve achieved a few little milestones since my last post:

  1. Published the electronic omnibus edition of The Fallen Shepherd Saga.
  2. Revised the series title, since the characters demanded a sequel – the continuing series will be called The Fallen Mythos.
  3. Started typesetting the paperback edition, and scheduled time to complete this over the next couple of weeks.
  4. Started rewriting the sequel novel.
  5. I haven’t started any new (non-work) projects. This is a pretty major achievement for me (which is probably a sad commentary on my writing process), so I’m comfortable counting something that didn’t happen as a milestone.

I’ve also been using Twitter prompts to write at least one short poem each week, which I’ve found useful for keeping the language alive while sticking to a single main project.

One month on, having a few defined constraints seems to be working well, and I’m increasingly optimistic about this approach.

That’s about it for the month… back to the re-write.

Resolving 2015

I’m not big on new year’s resolutions, given how transient they tend to be (that probably says more about my perseverance than anything else, but the studies support my case). So instead, I’m starting 2016 with a plan, charting specific, quantifiable objectives.

I took most of December off work and writing to complete an urgent renovation project on the house, because it turns out everyone wants to schedule scaffolding, builders and glaziers around the Summer break, and I’m obviously a masochist. Working outside in the sun (and rain, this is Auckland) gave me a little space to consider my works in progress, and – more importantly – to count them. Aside from those shown in the blog sidebar, I have several short stories, novellas, novel drafts, two podcast outlines and a screenplay in my “active” folder, and the “completed” folder was barely touched in the latter months of 2015.

So the plan is essentially this: complete shit. Erm, I’ll rephrase that. The plan is to complete all of my pending projects before I begin any new ones. I’ve got a shiny new timeline, a list of priorities, and as part of my accountability I’ll be posting more regular updates on this blog.

So, when we meet up for the more regular social interaction that probably does fall into the Resolution category, you can help: don’t ask me what I’m working on. Instead, ask me what I’ve finished this week, or when my next deadline is due.

Longer writing exercises are a frequent outlet for procrastination, so in 2016 I’ll be making more use of Twitter prompts for short bursts of poetry (and the always fun six-word stories), so follow @PeterRavlich if that’s your thing.

Finally, Initially, I hope that your 2016 brings with it plenty of opportunities to create, share, reflect and live. Globally, 2015 was a flawed creature in too many ways to list – but it has been put to rest. 2016 begins. Let’s make it better.