Life is the Fantasy

A scene from book two, chapter four.

It's funny how life imitates fantasy, or vise versa.

When I write, I just kinda make it up as I go. (Well, there is an outline to follow)

But I always found things that reminded me of my books: people, places, images.

I like having a connection between the here and now, and the world within.

How many times as boys, my friend and I saw Hobbiton across the hill from Ridge Road

looking towards Jefferson. At least it fed our imaginations. Time to look for more pics...

and write, of course.

Castle Rohbir, in Nordhiem. (or damn close)

One of my favorite hikes...

Comments

Julee J. Adams said…

Great pictures--I had to smile. My heroes in my first two books are originally from Pittsburgh. I flew through there and bought a Penguins hat because I like Penguins and everytime I wear it, people start talking hockey.
Anyway, more of a hard SF fan, rather than fantasy, in fact, my husband and I ran a convention and were Fan GoHs at a large regional convention years ago. Congrats on your successes so far! New to the blogging thing and working on romances, but if you'd like to stop by: http://fateandfaith-julee.blogspot.com/2011/05/follow-friday-and-some-amusing-links.html

May 6, 2011 at 7:28 AM

A taste of Book Three

Excerpt : Chapter Four -- Prince of the Furies Between the grove and what appeared a small graveyard, the shrine rose tall and elegant. The building seemed a newer construction, and smelled of fresh cut oak when Jascha opened the double doors that were solid and stained a reddish-brown. They stepped into the vestibule and its silence held them. The building was square and not large, but adequate for a small village. Light came from stained-glass windows within the main chamber, which was open to them, and rowed clerestory across the nave of the roof. A beam of sunlight streamed into the rear of the chamber onto what appeared a bare table, without cloth or candle; and beside it knelt the girl they saw earlier. Jascha insisted they wait. Andro studied her from across the room. She appeared statuesque, illuminated by the sun, but innocent and beautiful. As still as an angel in a painting, she startled him when she suddenly turned. In a soft voice she spoke, “Come.”

Details, details...

The excuse of slow-writing knows no bounds. At 60,000 words, I could pat myself on the back; but many others crush my speed with their dedicated writing schedules. No matter - I have excuses galore. (although, I have given up some activities for Lent that directly influence my own writing schedule - so hopefully I'll get moving here) Anyone who reads my blog entries, and bless you if you do, may realize that I rarely speak of good writing/criticism/grammar/punctuation. There are plenty that do, and they do it well. To write well takes practice, patience, and a whole lot of opinion -- the friendly stranger sort. My advice to writing well: join a writing group, and there are plenty online to do it. There I learned a lot, and I learned when it was no longer useful. (it is hard to critique chapter five without reading chapters one through four - grammar aside) As you may know, I'm all about world-building and being immersed in a solid story - even if it spans many books. The ex...

Welcome

Now it begins. Actually, it began when I was about 12 years old. A Rankin-Bass cartoon called 'the Hobbit' came on television, you may have heard of it, and from there the fantasy genre had a new fan. Then came a fortunate gift: a 'the Lord of the Ring's' boxed set pushed me deeper into a wonderful new realm. Books, games, role-playing, all part of the process of exploring fantasy, became the norm. Some of us set out to try it ourselves. Many folk write as a way to express themselves beyond idle conversation, and some do it very well. Bookstores are full of talented, gifted, and sometimes lucky authors. Fantasy is no exception. Striking out on the first two, I'll give 'luck' a chance, but you know what they say about luck. Anyway, keep reading...

James M. Vargo Books

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