The Maradaine Saga

I like supporting good people that create good art. (Hell, I'll support good people that create so-so art.) Especially people that are nice to me and come from the same place I do, Central New York. Even though he's a Texan now, you never quite lose being a CNYer. So I'm here to support my friend Marshall Ryan Maresca (friend might be a stronger word, but it sounds better than Internet acquaintance), the author of the Maradaine Saga.

Today is Sunday August 30th and I've decided to embark on a quest and I'm inviting you to accompany me to the Archduchy of Maradaine. We're on a tight schedule since the final book of the Maradaine Saga, THE PEOPLE OF THE CITY, comes out on October 26th. I've come up with a plan for us to finish the eleven books that make up the Saga and smoothly transition into the final book. 

I've preordered my copy, you should too, preordering is important. Like all quests, we need a map, so I've created a pacing guide (I'm a HS English teacher, I can't help it) for you to follow to get you there. I'll post something here on Fridays where I'll discuss what I read and any of you can respond. So, here we go and I'll see you on the other side. 

So you understand, the number is the last chapter you should read for that day. 

Here's the link to the pacing guide.

Hey Netflix, How About This?

 A few weeks back the Internet was ablaze with the rumor that Netflix was looking for the next "family friendly fantasy story" a la Star Wars or Harry Potter. I sort of read it as they were looking for something original and I have ideas. As as joke (but not really) I posted an "ad" on Facebook about anyone wanting to work with me on creating said project. A few nibbled by bringing up IPs they were interested in and one grabbed my attention. I was initially opposed but the poster convinced me that it could work thanks to THE WITCHER. So I set about planning the seasons for said IP. (I spent a whole day planning and casting two seasons of a fictional OFFICE-esque series about where I work and it's amazing.) So, without further adieu and gilding of the lilies, may I show you my plan for DRAGONLANCE: THE WAR OF THE LANCE.

So, I always felt as formative as DL was to me, reading it as an adult left me wanting. There was so much potential for the books that a TV series could bring back. We'd need three seasons, one for each of the book. The first season should be 8 episodes, second and third 10, with some expansion of what happens in books 2 and 3. So, using the chapter epigraphs, I came up with the titles. So, away we go.

Season One: Dragons of Autumn Twilight 

Best cover by a mile and the "smallest" of the three books. There's not much I would add to this. The desire to put Kitiara in this part is strong but she belongs in season 2, especially since she's maybe the most important casting besides Tanis and Raistlin. I don't know about casting but if Kelsey Asbille isn't Goldmoon, I might fight people. Anyway, on to the episode titles:

1. The Old Man's Party
2. Message In the Stars
3. The Forestmaster
4. Smoke In The East
5. The Broken City
6. Night of Dragons
7. The Speaker of the Suns
8. The Dragon Highlord

Season Two; Dragons of Winter's Night:

For this season we expand a little bit and pull in some stuff from out of trilogy books to bulk up our story. I almost bumped this to 12 episodes, but 10 is enough. We add some more of the infighting and politics among Solamnic Knights, give Kitiara some time to shine and I for one can't wait to see the ice boats. So, episode titles (these are the first batch that contain non-epigraph titles, enjoy):

1. The Hammer of Kharas
2. The Blue Lady's War
   
3. Tarsis The Beautiful
4. Waking Dreams
5. The Song of the Ice Reaver
6. The Red Wizard and His Wonderful Illusions
7. The Oath and The Measure
8. My Honor Is My Life
9. The Shattered Sun
10. The Princess and The Blue Lady

NOTE: I'm really proud of 9 and 10. Episode 9 is going to be the "Red Wedding" episode for a lot of people. It's truly one of the more beautiful moments of the series. 

Season Three: Dragons of Spring's Dawning

When I re-read this a few years back, I was so disappointed in this book. It's the shortest by far. The war was over in one chapter. I get that they wanted to focus on the main characters and I'm sure the authors were under tremendous pressure to finish (I'd still love a "director's cut" of the books) them, but I felt this book was rushed. We have another ten episodes for this season and some expansion is necessary. So here's my episode titles and again we've gone off the tracks with episode titles, though most are from the epigraphs.

1. Flight from Darkness Into Darkness
2. The Chronicler and the Mage
3. The Oath of the Dragons
4. The Council of Whitestone
5. The Golden General
6. The Penalty of Failure
7. The Old Man and the Golden Dragon
8. The Queen of Darkness
9. The Debt Repaid
10. For Good or For Evil

So, that's how I'd break down the Dragonlance trilogy into a three season, 28 episode series. There's more details, but I spared you from them. So, Netflix...HBO...Hulu...whoever, I'm here and available. I think there are parts of Central New York that would be great for exteriors and I'll bet we can get some tax breaks, especially with a CNYer at the helm. 

The Imposter Syndrome

 A few months back I was catching up with some of my "boys" via Zoom. It was in the middle of the first month of the pandemic and I think our little group was jonesing for some interaction with people we didn't share DNA. One of the things my wife says is that I need to be more social and she's not wrong. (Yet she thinks that my having a writing session once a month with my friend Brian is weird.) She's joked that I've been more social since the pandemic started. 

Conversation from our little group chat moved from what we were drinking to what we've been cooking (lots of sourdough) to how we've been staying in some kind of shape (my complaining about walking stairs 3-5x a day to some of them running 7 miles a day). It was nice to talk to adults about adult things. (Again, not that I don't talk to my wife but sometimes you need more!) At one point in the conversations someone said something about writing and I griped around the malaise I was in related to my writing. This sparked something in one of my friends and he asked me perhaps the most terrifying question you could ever ask a writer: What motivates you to write?

I froze. I never have a good answer. Or at least the way that I feel.

Before I continue, confession time: I always feel that when I talk about writing with people, I bore them to tears. It's the reason I know that I'll never do a TED talk. It's not that I'm not passionate about writing or that I have what I think are interesting things to say about writing, it's just every ounce of self-loathing and self-doubt bubbles up slides on up to the front of my brain and makes me feel boring. (Comically, I don't have this problem with students.)

My friend asked the question earnestly. He doesn't know me very well so he hasn't lived through all my trials and tribulation of trying to be a famous author. The question really crippled me. I'm usually loquacious but I couldn't talk. A voice in the back of my head snickered and whispered, "Yeah, smart ass, what motivates you?"

I could say something poetic like the written word is the very marrow of our souls.

Nah, not me.

I could say that I hate blank paper and I need to fill it up with words.

Closer, but not quite there. 

Because I want to be rich.

Nah.

"Because I can't not write," I answered. It's a stock answer for me. But it's also incredibly true. In the chat, one of my friends that's read my stuff commented that I'm a very good writer. I was embarrassed and humbled. I always feel weird talking about my writing out loud, it's really a sort if imposter's syndrome. 

Imposter's syndrome is a psychological phenomenon in which people are unable to internalize and accept their accomplishment. This is me to a T about just about everything I do successfully in my life. I'm never satisfied when I cook and I'm constantly trying to get better, though my ribs are so good you can't talk loudly about them or the meat will fall off the bone. There's always a voice in the back of my head nibbling at any sense of accomplishment in my head. I always feel like when someone asks about my writing, I always feel like I can see their eyes glaze over as I'm talking. It's hard to see glaze on a computer screen. As I tried to expand on my answer, I heard the voice in my head, so I talked faster so I could think it before they could. 

"You're a fraud."

Two agents, one abandoned the other I fired. A few very close calls with publishers. 

"You talk a big game."

My friend that's read my stuff props me up by earnestly saying how good my writing is and I aw-shucked my way through that. When I said something about it being boring, they said that it's really interesting and that they can see my passion.

"They have to say that."

I don't know if they do or don't but it felt kind of good to talk about it out loud. 

"Usually you have to pay $100 an hour for that, ding dong."

Imposter or not, I write because I can't stop writing, God have mercy on your soul.

"He won't, he made you a writer for Chris-okay, okay, I'll stop there."

A New Hobby

At the start of summer, my son Cooper asked for a birdfeeder. I'm not 100% sure why, but it's not an extravagant or out of left field request, so we bought it for him. It took me a week or so to buy the seed then another week to set it up. Since I put it up, I can't get enough of it, seeing if I can identify the birds that visit my little bird feeder. I obsess over seeds and making sure there's enough for them. I'm not this diligent with my dog. You know it's weird when your wife says that she got you a surprise and when you find out it's a 40 pound bag of bird seed, there aren't enough kisses to show your appreciation.

I'll perch on the front porch as quietly as I can, my writing notebook and pen in hand, though I don't write when the feeder is busy, I'm too busy meeting with my new friends. There's been the requisite robins and at least three different kinds of sparrows. I call them the Jets (Robins) and Sharks (Sparrows). Lately the Jets haven't been visiting as much. Quite a few doves join the mix along with a real gang of grackles  that unsuccessfully tries to intimidate the other, smaller birds. A few couples join the buffet. A pair of cardinals, Ralph and Alice, that visit several times a day while a pair of pigeons, Henry and Karen, show up the same time every day to partake (Bonus points if you get the reference, double bonus points if you REALLY get the reference). On a rainy afternoon the smorgasbord was attended by a pair of orioles. They're aristocrats names Thurston and Lovey. I saw a bright yellow goldfinch and a red crested lark.Then there's Bart the Blue Jay. That little bastard will sit on the power line and squawk at me until I go inside. I won't even go into the mammals that join the group, which has included several rabbits, two chipmunks and possibly a raccoon.

A few days ago, I gave my wife the rundown of what I'd seen that day. She looked at me with something short of incredulity and said, "I didn't know that you were that into birds."

"Neither did I," I responded. 

Bird watching is serious business and I don't know if I'm built for it. This is not a disparagement of the activity. It requires a great deal of patience and diligence, two things I am not equipped for. But I'm trying.

A few afternoons ago, I was returning home from running errands. As I walked up the driveway, I looked over to my, I mean my son's bird feeder. It was in need of a refill. I scanned the remaining area and saw at least 20 birds staring back at me like the movie THE BIRDS. I'm old enough that it still scared me. I moved a little faster as I waddled my way, penguin-like, into the house. 

The Gut Punch

One of my favorite parts of reading is when you come across something that is so well written that it causes your body to react. The author's words come off the page, blast through your emotional dampeners and cause a visceral, physical reaction. We're talking gasps, tears and outright sobbing. And it's always from a book you don't expect it to come from. Sure TUESDAYS WITH MORRIE is going to pull at your heartstrings but a book about baseball cards? That's when that gut punch is the best. 

Yesterday morning was a damn near perfect morning in Central New York, so instead of staying inside I decided to sit on the front porch and read. I sipped the Dunkin frozen chai my sister-in-law delivered to me on her way to work (I really did marry over my skis in so many ways) and started reading "The Battery" in Brad Balukjian's genius book THE WAX PACK. The chapter is about little known pitcher Jaime Concanower. A card my friends or I would've used to put in our bicycle spokes. Balukjian went all the way to Arkansas to interview him. The last page and a half of the chapter quite literally reached off the page, opened my rib cage and punched me repeatedly in my heart. In front of this virtual stranger, Concanower breaks down about his wife's battle with breast cancer. I shut the book, took a deep sigh that morphed from a gasp to a full on chest sob. Holy shit. It was the perfect combination of story and writing. It was a moment I both envied and appreciated. 

There have been plenty of moments where this has happened. Something so powerful in the written word that my body reacts. The death of Ned Stark. The Red Wedding. The entire chapter "Speaking of Courage" from the THINGS THEY CARRIED. Sean Devine ruminating about his relationship with his father in MYSTIC RIVER. Act I, Scene III of FENCES. All moments where I reacted both emotionally and physically. Gasps and sobs that caused people around me to check on my well being. Even now, in reflection, I'm have allergies. That happened again whole reading "The Battery."

I don't know if it's my father's battle with cancer.

I don't know if it's my unbounded love of my wife. 

I don't know if it's being cooped up in a house for so long.

And maybe it's just a combination of some or all of these things. 

It's 24 hours later and I'm still thinking about it. The sounds of my family's shenanigans filling the house and making me smile. But I'm thinking about Jaime and Gini Concanower, hoping they get to enjoy as many moments like the one unfolding in my house right now.

Mr. & Mrs. Concanower, I doubt you'll read this, but if you do, know that we're rooting for you in Liverpool, NY.