Oh, the Things You’ll Write!

It’s hard to think of a hobby, pastime, or activity more versatile, more location-independent, than writing. You can write almost anywhere. I’ve come up with a poem about that. Sincere apologies, Dr. Seuss:

You can write stuff on a train. You can write stuff on a plane.

You can write stuff in your house. Write beside your dozing spouse.

Write by soft electric light. Write quite late into the night.

You can write until the dawn. You can write out on the lawn.

You can write while in a park. You can write on old tree bark.

You can write both here and there. You can write most anywhere.

You can write while at a desk, from sublime to the grotesque.

Write first hither and then yon, and while sitting on the john

Write in your own living room, in a meeting while on Zoom.

Write while sitting in a chair wearing only underwear.

Write while riding in a car. Write when you get to the bar.

You can write both there and here. Write between big gulps of beer.

You can write while still in school, then while tanning at the pool.

You can write within your dorm. Write through a torrential storm.

You can write your prose so clear, hanging from a chandelier.

Have you written ‘till you cried, halfway up a mountainside?

You can write on any trip, even on a fine cruise ship.

You can write beneath the moon. Write aloft in a balloon.

You could write, or so I’ve heard, high up in a whirlybird.

You can by world unseen, while aboard a submarine.

You can write on your commute. Or hanging from a parachute.

You can write your very best while atop Mount Everest.

Write in far-off Kathmandu, or even while in Timbuktu.

You can write in every place. Even while in outer space.

Write while in a time machine. (Done before you start, I mean.)

You can write in any spot. That’s convenient, is it not?

You can write, (this ain’t no gibe), better than—

Poseidon’s Scribe

June 18, 2022Permalink

6 Tricks to Keep You Writing

Some time ago, you thought of a great idea for a story and started writing. Today, you can’t bring yourself to work on it any more. You’re not feeling the urge. You lost enthusiasm.

As you look back over it, you realize your writing sucks. You can’t bear to go on with it. You’ve come to believe it’s a waste of time.

You’re wondering what happened. How could you have been so fired up about the idea of the story, and so disgusted with the reality of it? Where did all that fervor, that passion, go? How do you get it back?

One option—the easiest one—is to give up. Admit defeat. Abandon the story and do other things with your time. I’ve explored that possibility before. Most often, that’s not the answer. You might be denying the world a good story, a salvageable one.

Maybe, if you search hard enough, or wait long enough, your motivation will return. Nah. As author Chuck Wendig explains in this post, nobody’s going to mail you some motivation, gift you some get-up-and-go, or present you a package of passion.

You have to rekindle that fire inside yourself, by yourself. Sorry. There’s no other way.

I know some techniques for doing that. Maybe one or more of the following will work for you:

  1. Reward. Give yourself small rewards for producing set amounts of writing. Grant yourself the reward only for output, not time spent. Note: food is not an ideal reward.
  2. Deadline. If you’re the type who works best under the pressure of time, create that pressure. Invent a deadline date and make it as real as you can—a visible calendar with the date circled in red. Devise a suitable (painless) penalty for missing the deadline, and a suitable reward for meeting it.
  3. Organize. If writing the story now seems intimidating and overwhelming, break it down into manageable parts. Finishing these small tasks will give you a sense of accomplishment and show progress toward the overall goal.
  4. Re-evaluate. Perhaps you’ve assumed you’d achieve brilliant prose in your first draft. Lower those expectations. Accept that this story might require several pass-throughs, each draft improving the story a little. The world won’t see your sausage-making process, only the final product.
  5. Remember. Think back to the origin of the story. Get back in that frame of mind. Recall why you felt so good about it then. Maybe the story needs some tweaking, some slight adjustments, from your original thoughts.
  6. Envision. Imagine a near future with your story finished, published, and succeeding. However you define ‘success,’ visualize an outsized amount—readers clamoring for your autograph, talk show hosts eager to interview you, vast royalties pouring into your savings account, whatever. Warning—don’t fall so much in love with this fantasy that you set yourself up for disappointment.

One or more of those techniques might help you fall back in love with your story, at least enough to finish writing it.

Take it from someone who’s used all six of those tricks at some point, none other than—

Poseidon’s Scribe

June 12, 2022Permalink

12 Purposes of Food in Stories

Real-life humans (you and me, for example) eat food to convert it to energy and use that to grow and move. Fictional characters get along just fine without food. Why, then, do we often read entire scenes showing characters eating?

On the other hand, many novels and short stories don’t mention food at all. Fictional years and decades may pass without a character consuming even one morsel or drinking one drop. Yet the character doesn’t die of starvation. What’s with that?

Readers assume a character eats ‘off-stage,’ just as we assume characters use the bathroom as needed without the author belaboring the waste expulsion process.

Since readers will assume a character eats, that takes us back to our original question—why do authors sometimes describe a character eating? I’ve come up with a dozen reasons, though there may be more:

  1. Setting. Food represents part of the setting in which the characters speak and interact. An author’s description of food helps the reader picture the location and background. Depending on the author’s intent, the food may complement the rest of the setting or provide a counterpoint to it.
  2. Authenticity. Some stories feature food as a central part of the story, and the author must show the character eating for the sake of realism. It would seem weird if the character didn’t eat. 
  3. Mood. The author can use food to show mood. (Apparently that’s true for poets, too.) A character’s opinion about food clues the reader into the character’s state of mind. That mood might not match the character’s out-loud dialogue, but will reveal the character’s true emotions.
  4. Talent. The preparation of food, especially difficult or dangerous types of prep, can showcase a character’s talent. Even an odd method of eating food (such as tossing candy in the air and catching it in the mouth) can demonstrate a talent useful to the story.
  5. Status. The type of food a character eats or prepares, whether hobo stew or truffles, may indicate the character’s status or wealth in the society. An author may also flip that script for an amusing or shocking contrast.
  6. Personality. Discussion about food, or the manner in which a character eats food, can unveil a character’s personality traits. Does the character slurp soup, season food before tasting, eat all the carrots before touching the potatoes, chew very slowly, slice the meat into many pieces before consuming one, etc.? How a character deals with food tells readers about the character’s general behavior patterns.
  7. Thoughts. Delicious food often reduces inhibitions, prompting people to say what they really think. This is particularly true as characters imbibe alcohol.
  8. Dialogue. People talk while eating, and a shared meal gives characters a chance to converse. This dialogue, like all fictional dialogue, must serve a purpose. It must reveal something about a character or must advance the plot, or both.
  9. Prop. The mechanics of food and drink consumption—sniffing, licking lips, arranging a napkin, cutting, lifting to the mouth, blowing to cool hot food, chewing, savoring, swallowing, etc.—help break up dialogue with action. A character may use an eating utensil to illustrate or emphasize a point.   
  10. Relaxation. A quiet meal can serve as a low-tension scene separating two high-action scenes. It gives the reader a chance to catch a breath while characters catch a bite.
  11. Conflict. A meal may afford the opportunity for characters to confront each other over a disagreement. They may argue, or even fight.
  12. Symbolism. An author may use any type of food or drink to symbolize something else. If a character keeps coming back to a particular type of food, and it’s either described or consumed in a different way each time, chances are it symbolizes some aspect of a change in the character.

Unlike us, fictional characters don’t need food to survive, but a story might require a character to eat anyway.

Don’t know about you, but this discussion of food has made me hungry. It’s off to the kitchen for—

Poseidon’s Scribe

June 5, 2022Permalink

Eating the Fantastic, with Scott Edelman

Earlier this month, I had the honor of being interviewed by author Scott Edelman (Wikipedia page here).

The author, about to talk with his mouth full for 1.5 hours

We’d met a few years ago at Balticon, the Baltimore Science Fiction convention, and served on a couple of discussion panels together. For several years now, he’s been interviewing scifi authors for a podcast series he calls ‘Eating the Fantastic.’

While attending cons, Scott enjoyed eating meals with other authors and discussing science fiction. He soon realized he didn’t need to wait for cons to do that, so started his unique podcast series and has interviewed over 170 authors so far.

We met at the Bonnie Blue Southern Market and Bakery in Winchester, Virginia on May 3rd. A nice day, so we ate outside at one of their patio tables. After conducting so many of these interviews, Scott knew just how to make me feel at ease, and I forgot about the microphone and just answered his questions the best I could.

Most authors enjoy talking about their writing, and I’m no different. Ask any author that, and you’ll see. Before you do, though, clear your schedule for the next few hours.

My conversation with Scott ranged over many topics, and I struggled for answers at times, but overall, he’s a wonderful interviewer. My breakfast at Bonnie Blue tasted delicious. The restaurant staff provided professional and friendly service.

As you listen to the podcast, you’ll hear my views on:

  • the pandemic’s effect on writing;
  • SciFi conventions, including my experiences as panelist and moderator;
  • how I started writing;
  • my early influences, including Verne, Asimov, Heinlein, Clarke, and Bradbury;
  • my own writing career and writing style;
  • my short stories;
  • Alternate History, and the research necessary to write in that subgenre;
  • the Snowflake Method* of writing;
  • writing for themed anthologies;
  • responding to editors who request story changes;
  • co-editing 20,000 Leagues Remembered
  • the depiction of submarines in books and movies; and
  • my current Work in Progress, and beyond.

* During the interview, I mispronounced Dr. Randy Ingermanson’s last name. My apologies to him. He’s the inventor of the Snowflake Method for writing novels. I use an abbreviated form of that method to write short stories.

Many thanks to Scott Edelman. Being interviewed by him for ‘Eating the Fantastic’ was a distinct honor for—

Poseidon’s Scribe

May 29, 2022Permalink

Break Any Rule but This One

Are you one of those who’d like to write a story—a novel, even—but the task seems too difficult? You recall unpleasant memories of Language Arts classes, learning all the complex rules of English. You’re afraid you’ll break a rule.

I’ll simplify things for you. There’s only one rule.

There exist, however, a vast number of guidelines. These cover spelling, grammar, punctuation, sentence structure, plot, pacing, character development, story formatting, manuscript submitting, and more. A lot to keep track of.

Or not.

For every guideline you name, at least one famous author ignored it:

  • Don’t use double negatives. Jane Austen didn’t not use them.
  • Don’t use run-on sentences. Both Charles Dickens and Marcel Proust thought otherwise, going on and on with long sentences on many occasions, long past the point of necessity.
  • Don’t begin sentences with conjunctions. But William Faulkner did.
  • Always set off dialogue with quotation marks. Cormac McCarthy and José Saramago said no thanks.
  • Use periods and commas where required. James Joyce and Gertrude Stein both famous writers got along okay without them
  • Use proper punctuation. Samuel Beckett never did and Junot Díaz never does

How come you had to learn all those guidelines, but famous authors get to violate them? For one thing, guidelines help when you’re learning to write. Also, the guidelines make your writing more understandable to readers. They’re getting what they expect, what they find easy to read.

It’s okay to violate a guideline, but you shouldn’t break the One Rule.

What’s the One Rule?

Here it is: Tell a good story.

That’s it. Or rather, that’s the simplest expression of the One Rule.

What is a ‘good story?’ From a writer’s perspective, I’d say a good story comes from deep within. The writer cares about the story and feels a strong need to tell it.

If the writer does that job well enough, then a good story (1) draws a reader in, (2) keeps a reader reading, (3) leaves a reader changed, and (4) lingers in the reader’s mind long after reading it.

If you write a good story, it doesn’t matter how many guidelines you violate.

Let’s say you’re in the middle of writing a story. Words are flowing, straight from your heart. You’re in the zone.

You stop. Some inner editor, some memory of a Language Arts teacher, or some recollection of an authoritative website’s advice, berates you for breaking a rule. Looking back over your manuscript in horror, you realize it’s true. You’re a language criminal. The linguistic police will apprehend you and send you to writer jail.

Before the law can close in, you hide the evidence. You change the story, bringing it into compliance with the rules. From somewhere inside, a rebel voice protests, “now you’re making the story worse.”

As you look over what you’ve edited, it’s clear. The voice is right. The story is worse. Not what it was meant to be. As if the story itself wants you to break a rule. Your story demands it.

What to do? Well, many things that seem like hard and fast rules are really just guidelines. If obeying them would worsen your story, ignore them.

That last part—that ‘if’—is key. Violate a guideline only after consideration, not out of ignorance.

Just don’t break the One Rule. Tell a good story. In the pursuit of that goal, you may violate any other guideline, with the full permission of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

May 22, 2022Permalink

Where to Get Your Best Story Prompts

What inspires you to write your stories? A picture, a song, an idea, a TV show, a movie, an article you read, an event in your life or someone else’s?

Perhaps you’ve drawn inspiration from varied sources. You may be wondering which of these sources resulted in your best stories. If you knew that answer, you could dip your mental bucket into that well more often. There’s a way to find out.

First, look over your collection of stories. Rate them in order from best to worst. Now list the source that inspired each story beside the appropriate title in your list. Does a single source dominate the top of your list? That should be your go-to source for inspiration.

I surveyed my 31 published short stories. Here is the breakdown of the inspiration sources: anthologies—10, historical research—10, critique group discussion—4, movies—2, book—1, TV show—1, song lyrics—1, family—1, and SF convention—1.

After rating my stories from best to worst using the pair-wise comparison method (a painful task, since I love them all), I found 6 of the top 10 owe their genesis to calls for submission to anthologies. That is, an anthology publisher put out a call for submission, the subject intrigued me, and I wrote a story. Of my 10 worst stories, no single prompt dominated that list.

I’d be tempted to conclude that anthologies spark my best stories, and, if so, I’d be advised to continue to look for those possibilities.

However, I’m trying to grow as a writer. Neither my current work in progress nor any of my recently written, unpublished stories found inspiration from anthologies.

If you try this exercise, perhaps the results will turn out differently for you and prove more useful to your writing. For me, I’ve decided to remain open to all sources of inspiration. When my muse nags me about an idea, I’ll listen to her and write that story, no matter what prompted it.

Who knows what source will inspire your next story? It could be anything. The world is full of ideas, plenty enough for you, and for—

Poseidon’s Scribe

May 15, 2022Permalink

Born Too Late to Write Something New

You’d like to write a fictional story, but don’t know what to write about. As you cast around for ideas, you realize everything’s been written by someone else before you. There’s nothing new under the sun.

The French writer Alfred de Musset expressed your precise feeling in his poem “Rolla,” when he wrote, “I came too late into a world too old.”

Author Robert Glancy said “All the stories in the world have already been told.”

Another author, Anna Quindlen, put it this way: “Once you’ve read Anna Karenina, Bleak House, The Sound and the Fury, To Kill a Mockingbird and A Wrinkle in Time, you understand that there is really no reason to ever write another novel.”

Library shelves and bookstores teem with books you could have written, but didn’t. Now it’s too late. All plots used. All characters portrayed. All settings explored. All stories written.

Obvious conclusion—you might as well give up. You can’t write anything new, anything original. The infinite number of monkeys clattering on infinite typewriters now rest their arms. Having typed everything, they’re done.

If it’s true for you, it’s true for everyone. Not only have the monkeys finished, all human writers must also be done. The last novels, the last short stories, novellas, and flash fiction pieces must even now be rolling off the printing presses. This year, 2022, must mark the end of fiction. All writers must retire. All publishers must shift to reprinting old stuff.

Any day now, we’ll hear the news about the death of new fiction. It had a good run. We remember it like it was yesterday. Rest in Peace.

Any day now…

Wait a minute. I’m not sensing a slowing of writer output yet. Publishers somehow keep cranking out new titles. Writers somehow keep submitting fresh manuscripts.

Don’t they know it’s over? Haven’t they read the obituary? What’s going on? If everything’s been written already, why are writers still writing? Why are publishers still publishing?

Looking back, we see no error in our logic, no flaw in our reasoning. And yet.

Upon further examination, we missed the end of the Glancy and Quindlen quotes. Robert Glancy went on to say, “…but our stories have not been told from every angle.” Anna Quindlen continued in her speech, “…except that each writer brings to the table, if she will let herself, something that no one else in the history of time has ever had.”

Maybe there’s hope for you after all. Maybe all plots, characters, and settings have been exhausted…but not in every combination. Not from every perspective. Not using every mood, tone, or style. Not with every apt metaphor, every well-worded simile. Not with your experiences and passions woven in.

Call the monkeys back to their typewriters. They have more work to do. Much more.

Come to think of it, forget about the monkeys. They’re not the ones with stories to write. You are. An infinite number of stories remain. They’re out there. Your muse whispers them to you and you must obey.

De Musset had it backward. You didn’t come too late into a world too old. You came just in time for the world to read your story.

Your story may well resemble, in certain aspects, others that came before. But since it’s yours, that gives it freshness and originality. Something new under the sun after all.

So write it. Let the world read it. Back to the keyboard you go. And so, also, goes—

Poseidon’s Scribe

May 8, 2022Permalink

Mind the Gap

In the London subway system, iconic signs exhort patrons to step with care across the space between platform and train with the words “Mind the Gap.” Not bad advice for time management while writing, either.

Here I refer to a different kind of gap. Inspired by Andrew Gudgel’s post on June 3, 2019, which he based on Samantha Leach’s article in Glamour, I’m referring to a gap in writing productivity.

The blogpost and the article state that author Danielle Steel writes 20 to 22 hours a day. That’s not a typo. My math says Ms. Steel uses between 83% and 92% of all available time for writing. On occasion, she goes the full 100%. Put another way, in an average 8-hour period, Ms. Steel writes for 7 and squeezes the rest of her life activities into the remaining 1 hour.

I suspect very few other writers (perhaps none) maintain that schedule, so let’s consider that an upper limit of what is possible. Is Ms. Steel’s time well spent? Well, she’s the best-selling living author. She’s written over 141 novels, all of which were best-sellers. Yes, I’d say she’s used that time productively.

Right now, you’re mentally comparing your writing schedule to Danielle Steel’s and feeling rather inferior. You’re thinking you need more than 2-4 hours of sleep each day, and there’s also eating, showering, dressing, and undressing to consider.

That’s the gap I’m talking about—the writing schedule gap between you and Danielle Steel. If you keep thinking about that gap, you’ll get depressed.

Still, in a detached way, you can see how someone could get there. Say you enjoyed writing and wrote a debut novel that became a best-seller. You’d feel a strong incentive to write another. If that novel also succeeded, you’d be motivated to repeat that process. If nothing else in life gave you as much satisfaction as writing, and if all you got was positive feedback for doing so, you might end up writing for 20-22 hours a day, too.

To avoid comparison envy and anxiety, I encourage you to focus on a different gap. Forget about Danielle Steel. Think about how much you write every day, and compare it to where you were before becoming a writer. That’s the gap that matters. That’s a gap you can work on improving.

Writing Productivity Gaps

By instinct, I prefer metrics where more is better. The less=better metrics—golf scores, unemployment rates, the you-to-Danielle Steel work-hour gap—just feel wrong to me.  

As the London subway signs say, “Mind the Gap,” but mind the right gap. Always here to provide uplifting advice and encouragement, I’m—

Poseidon’s Scribe

April 30, 2022Permalink

Do You Begin with Character, Plot, or Theme?

You’re thinking about writing a novel. Do your first thoughts focus on a character, events, or ideas? Whichever it is, opportunities and dangers await you.

This past week, I listened to an online lecture by author Emily Colin on the subject of “Hooking Readers and Publishers with Your Opening Pages and Never Letting Go.” She mentioned these three types of starting points, and that got me thinking.

I discovered a post by author PJ Parrish dealing with two of the three—character and plot. She listed strengths and challenges associated with each mindset. Using her post as a starting point, I’ll present my own list of pros and cons for all three.

Character-Based

Your first question is, “Who?” and you imagine a character, or more than one, fully formed, with backstory, personality, and appearance all locked in. Your character is like family to you.

Pros:

  1. Reader Empathy. People care about characters, and if yours are interesting and well-drawn, your novel will entrance readers.
  2. Writer Empathy. You know your character so well, you’ll have no problems writing actions, behavior, and dialogue at any point. You’ll know the character’s appropriate action in, and reaction to, any situation.
  3. Editor Empathy. Character-driven stories dominate the fiction market now. A story with engaging characters may be easier to sell.

Cons:

  1. Idolizing. If you fall in love with your character, you may see no flaws, and therefore no change will result, no learning will occur.
  2. Meandering. If your plot is weak, events may seem disconnected or illogical. The plot may seem contrived, with scenes designed to showcase the character instead of presenting a series of increasingly difficult challenges.
  3. Puzzling. If you neglect theme, readers might like your character, but be left wondering what the book was all about, and why they should care.

Plot-Based

Your first question is, “What if?” and you imagine the conflict, the journey, the rising and falling tension, the escalation of stakes, and the resolution.

Pros:

  1. Blurb. You know your back cover blurb already, as well as the story outline and synopsis. A ready blurb makes the story marketable.
  2. Suspense. The thing that keeps readers reading on—suspense—comes easy to you. You’ve lined up the twists that keep readers surprised.
  3. Structure. The writing may go easier for you, since you know where the story’s going.

Cons:

  1. Unsurprising. If you adhere to your plot outline too rigidly, the ending might be predictable. Or you might force a character to act out-of-character, because it’s necessary to your plot.
  2. Boring. In peopling your plot, you may end up with characters who are flat, uninteresting, even stereotyped.
  3. Puzzling. If you neglect theme, readers might like your plot, but be left wondering what the book was all about, and why they should care.

Theme-Based

Your first question is, “What’s the point?” You have something to say to the world. You’d like to persuade, to bring about change. You feel deeply about a message you want to convey.

Pros:

  1. Elevation. Strong themes, well expressed, can raise a book above common genre books into the realm of literary fiction.
  2. Double-Take. Books with strong themes make readers think. Only later do they realize the power of the message, and that makes them love the book even more than when they first finished it. Such books can change lives.
  3. Endurance. Well-written stories that say something true and eternal about the human condition can become classics.

Cons:

  1. Preaching. If you beat your fist on the pulpit too strongly, the reader will walk out on your sermon. If you can’t weave themes into your fiction with subtlety, write a textbook instead.
  2. Forcing. Readers will sense when you’ve engineered your plot to make your larger point, especially if effects don’t follow from causes.
  3. Over-Simplifying. If your characters lack dimension, if they can be summed up in one word, if their purpose is just to symbolize an idea in support of your theme, they’re not realistic.

In summary, it’s okay if you’re any one of the three types of writers. (I’m plot-based.) Strive to recognize your tendency and compensate for the cons associated with your type. Think about the other two aspects as you write and shore up those areas you’re weak in.

Interesting bonus fact: if you rearrange the letters in the words “character,” “plot,” and “theme,” you cannot come up with the words—

Poseidon’s Scribe

April 24, 2022Permalink

Evolution of Your Book

As you write it, your book will evolve. Think of this process as a scientist thinks of an organic species.

The scientific theory of evolution holds that genetic variations within individual members of a species produce an organism slightly different from its parent or parents. The differences allow it to fit into its environment better, or worse, or with no change, in comparison with its ancestors. Those organisms less able to fit do not survive. Those that fit better, do.

Further complicating the process, the environment changes too. Usually this occurs at a much slower rate than the generational, genetic changes within a species, but sometimes the environment alters in sudden and catastrophic ways.

How is this like the book you’re writing? Your book begins as an idea, amoeba-like, single-celled, floating in the nourishing sea of your mind. That sea not only feeds the new-born amoeba-book, it adds cells, adds complexity in a benevolent, parental way.

Soon that environment changes. Your fledgling book idea doesn’t swim alone in your mind-sea. Other book ideas compete for food there. Any given book idea jostles against others while you probe and examine each one, scrutinizing them all for weaknesses.

Your book then grows more complex and becomes a fish with internal structures. Physically, a few pages of notes. It’s survived the rough-and-tumble of competition with other book ideas to adopt this new form.

As you create early drafts, your book becomes an amphibian. A manuscript, though rough in form. Time for it to emerge into a new and harsher environment. You push your book up to the light, to crawl onto the beach of criticism where it will encounter a critique group or a beta reader.

A cruel life awaits your book as it creeps about in this unfamiliar world. Editor-predators lurk there, ready to detect weak spots and pounce. If genetic variations (revisions) prove favorable, your book adapts, becomes more reptilian, fits in with the environment by surviving encounters with predators.

Your book continues to evolve during a long period of revision. It becomes strong, lean, and complex, with few remaining weaknesses. A mighty and fearsome creature, it rules its world.

A meteor strikes.

You got the book published. The environment explodes into a chaotic new form. No longer a gigantic dinosaur, striding unchallenged, your book is a tiny mammal, a mouse scurrying about, competing for readers against innumerable other creatures.

These readers provide the sustenance your book needs—sales. But some readers become critics. A few of those critics treat your book well. Many other critics claw, slash, and gnaw at it.

Many books cannot adapt to this treatment and die out. Others manage to survive, despite the adverse criticism. Published in text form, your book may evolve in new ways. It can take the form of an audiobook. It can be adapted into a play, a movie, a TV show, a graphic novel, a comic book, a video game, etc.

Adapted and evolved to survive in various environments, your book stands erect, spreads throughout the world, and endures.

I wish you luck as you help your book along its evolutionary path. May it survive many epochs. I’m hoping the same success awaits books by—

Poseidon’s Scribe

April 17, 2022Permalink