Ehl Holloh Relth Holloh

I guess I should explain what 'ehl holloh relth holloh' means. It's an Arthanian phrase which means, "I hope above hope." The soldiers of the First Rell War used it as a battle cry, and it means pretty much what it says: that, despite overwhelming odds and circumstances, despite painfully obvious loss and failure, I still choose to hope. Above any beyond any sort of logic or reason, I hope that I survive this, and persevere. It means, 'I have no intention of giving up the fight, but I know the outcome is beyond my control. I will do everything I can, but my strongest chance is through hope.'

So the zoo trip finally happened. It was almost a bit surreal visiting this time, making a mental note of all the exhibits, where the animals were housed, precisely how much shit each creature churns out on a daily basis (fun fact: hippo keeper is not a fun job,) and so forth. It made me excited, and a little nervous. I imagine zoo keeping is a fairly coveted job. I'm going to have to really deserve it, and even when I get it, it will be hard, thankless, disgusting work for not nearly enough pay. At the beginning, at least. The things we do for the things we love.

It was wonderful having a day with the lady-woman, however. And we've cleaned the apartment in anticipation of having guests for her birthday party, so it actually looks like somewhere a person may live instead of a place a person could potentially be killed.

One good thing about my mental state is a near-complete lack of appetite. When I'm having a good day I can manage perhaps one meal, other days, not so much. Being a bit of a fatty, it's a welcome feeling to not be goddamn ravenous all the time. I did have one moment where the sadness reached some manner of threshold and passed from being "too upset to be hungry" to, "fuck it, comfort food," and I ordered a greasy, cheesy pizza. And then when it got here I felt so guilty I only ate three pieces. And then I wonder why I don't have any money.

I thought of a new story I'd like to write tonight. Then I realized it's pretty much Alice in Wonderland meets Heart of Darkness (the video game, not the novel.) That and I have approximately eight million other projects I need to finish before considering anything else. Although I have to admit that writing outside of the world of Dandel is an inspiring idea.

The uncertainty wears me down some days more than others. It feels painfully melodramatic to remain so ambiguous in a blog that nobody yet reads, but I do so out of respect for the situation, and only bring it up because it's cathartic to do so. But I feel as if I've exhausted the ways which it can be said: I'm more than a little terrified, I'm trying desperately to stay strong, and I'm trying to improve myself as an individual while the storm rages inside of me. It's a daunting experience.

I've done all that I can, but I still fear doing too much. Yet what I fear more is losing it. I wish I had more direct control and influence, but I just don't. There's nothing that can be done but to wait, and to hope. Hope above hope. Ehl holloh relth holloh.

Weary

I appear to be at war. The enemy is myself.

It seems as if any time something is advancing in the correct direction, that progress is being made to fix what has been broken, I work against myself to undo it. I fall prey to the time-tested folly of overthinking the problem. If I could take a step, perhaps two, away from the situation at hand, perhaps I could generate more success.

That's not me. I get in the midst of it, I get my hands dirty, and shit blows up in my face. Every. God. Damn. Time. I keep hoping this will be an exception to the rule, and maybe it is. I keep imagining myself three months down the line, looking back at this precariously dangerous time in my life, and sighing. Feeling the calm warmth of assuredness trickle down the length of my body. You know the feeling. The feeling of safety, of comfort. Right now, nothing is safe, and I'm comfortable only in few instances.

Anyway, this entry shouldn't be entirely ambiguous, passive-aggressive angst. I'm just thoroughly disappointed in myself and terrified of the future my actions may have wrought.

I ended up doing rather well on the placement testing. I'm enrolled and it appears as if my financial grants will be more than sufficient to cover my first semester back as a student. This gives me hope.

Zoo plans were once again postponed on account of work interrupting. We are scheduled to go tomorrow. If we don't, I will despair.

Storm clouds. Dark days. A swift wind threatens the sapling, bears down on it with gale force. I stand astride the weak thing, arms outstretched, resolve etched across my face. Failure has touched this heart and mind too many times. It has become a companion. I shake my head against the stinging rain and wailing winds. No. This is not how this story ends. No. This is just how it begins. NO. I will not falter again. I inhale sharply as the storm threatens to consume me. The terrors will be out again tonight. I must not fear. I must not fear.

Gregor Clegane Decapitates a Horse, or: How I learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Knight of Flowers

That was the episode of Game of Thrones I have been waiting for. The introduction of Bronn, Loras Tyrell, and Barristan Selmy, and really driving home the fact that Gregor Clegane is crazier than a shithouse rat. Sandor was brilliant, Arya was brilliant, Littlefinger was brilliant, Renly was brilliant, Bronn was brilliant, Robert and Cersei were brilliant. This is why I watch this show. I missed Jon Snow and the lady-woman lamented the lack of Daenerys, whom I'm beginning to think she'd leave me for, but missing favorites aside...god damn, son.

And it only gets better next week. Daenerys gets to sample a Dothraki delicacy and Viserys gets a very sweet gift from his brother-in-law, lovely little scenes from across the narrow sea. Bronn sets himself up as a badass, and Ned gets in over his head.

I feel foolish, but I'm not too proud to admit I completely missed the homosexual subtext between Loras Tyrell and Renly Baratheon while reading A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings. I adore both of the characters, and in retrospect, I suppose the hints are there. It doesn't affect my appreciation for either character in any way, but it seems poor Brienne never even had a chance.

I apparently owe the lady-woman an illustration of the silhouette of Zordiec the Last Dragon before she can finish the cover of the ebook. A daunting task. One that must be accomplished, however, if I intend to have the book on the market by the end of May. Which I do.

Reading through what I have of Beyond the Horizon, I am still confident in its pacing and character development but I am seeing cracks in the foundation that must be repaired immediately. There is always room for improvement. I worry about the middle of the book. There are many scenes I've envisioned and places I'd love for the Dark Star pirates to explore, but I don't wish to spread my narrative too thin. And there is always the worry that it will be 'just another Rell novel.' The Rell factor largely into the plot of the first Beyond the Horizon at least, to be sure, but I want to try to make it its own thing and save the Rell for the Rell saga. There are plenty of other exciting and horrible creatures in the world of Dandel that I don't need to throw the Rell into every work.

Our efforts to visit the zoo having been fully trounced by the rain on Friday, we have set ourselves to the plan of attempting again tomorrow. The men that are paid to know these things assure me that, through whatever augury or ensorcellment allows them to divine such information, they have ascertained tomorrow to be "69 and Sunny." This is about as prime of zoo-attending weather as one could hope for short of "75 and Free Blowjobs Upon Seeing an Exotic Animal."

I also have a test to take tomorrow before I'm allowed back into the pursuit of a college degree. My last attempt at college life was a hilarious failure. Hilarious for everyone but my grandfather who fronted the cash for that semester. Suffice it to say that, this time around, it being on my own (borrowed) dime, I'm more apprehensive. There is a lot riding on me not fucking this up this time, to be sure. And considering that, apart from that botched job, I've not been in any sort of academic program since I graduated high school in motherfucking 2003, back when Iraq's WMD's were still debated and SARs was still a thing, it could be said that I'm feeling a little rusty.

I'm still terribly anxious about a lot of things but I begin to feel like things are getting better, that perhaps I've reached the nadir of this particular dip, and that I'm slowing climbing my way out of it. As long as I don't go and fuck it up again, naturally.

Dawn breaks. A light pierces the veil of gray. A ray of light. A ray of hope. Sunlight nourishes seed, and life springs anew. With eager and trembling hands I set to work, nourishing and cultivating, feeding and watering, tears in eyes and breath frozen in my lungs, wracked with the pain of hope but terrified of killing this fragile life. Hope springs anew, fragile and delicate as a newborn. I must tread with care.

The Journey Begins

Revisions were completed yesterday evening. I think The Last Dragon is as good as it can be without a total rewrite. It feels good to be ahead of schedule! And now to wait for the lady-woman to make some cover art for it and it will be good for the e-market.

Research still needs to be done more thoroughly on the e-market, how to market an ebook, and so forth. I've been lightly reading about advertising and mailing lists and paid reviews and (obviously) starting a blog for publicity. Almost makes me wish I could hire a publicist. This shit, as they say, is real.

Now that revisions are over, I cracked open Beyond the Horizon, my second foray into writing. I'm not going to lie, it's good. I really enjoy what I've made there, and I'm terribly proud of it. So proud, in fact, that I've already constructed a series of eight novels (an octalogy?) for the Beyond the Horizon series. And I might make it nine; it'd be fun to make them sail to Palinor. But I might save that for later.

Depending entirely on the success of this ebook endeavor, I have a series of short stories I would like to someday write as well, mostly pertaining to the events leading up to or immediately following The Last Dragon, to give opportunities to tell those characters' tales one last time (barring Arnold, Demetrius, and Emlith--they will return for their own novel-length sagas.) I imagine it would be collectively known as 'Tales of the Last Dragon.' Another anthology of short stories I'd love to write would detail the ancient history and legends of Dandel that are briefly alluded to in The Last Dragon. I may release these stories individually for a pittance, and then collect them in anthology form once they are all written.

Beyond that, there are about five other novels I'd like to write detailing the world of Dandel, particularly the saga of the Rell. The Rell War looms in the distance like some foreboding mountain challenging me to conquer it. And I yearn to. I finally began reading George R.R. Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series and the realism, political intrigue, and absolute brutality of those novels have greatly inspired me to work on The Rell War, which I intend to be a much darker entry than its predecessors.

Rain ruined a perfectly good opportunity to go to the zoo with the lady-woman today. We nearly forged ahead despite it, but the chill winds prevailed over our resolve. Curse this Friday the 13th hoodoo.

The day is dark, but I feel confident the light will return. That which is broken and empty will be reforged, restored, made whole once more. When the sun sets and darkness falls, the terrors come out, and sleep may evade me once again. We shall see. We shall see.

Ehl holloh relth holloh. I hope above hope.