Ancient Songs Sung Anew

The ancient sons call us still.

Ever hear of Epic? It’s a rock opera retelling of The Odyssey. I cannot recommend it enough. The music has been dancing in my head for weeks.

But the infections melodies are wed to Homer’s epic poem, showing us Odysseus in all his heroic brokenness, giving, sacrificing everything to reach his wife and child.

My 15-year-old daughter loves Epic. We listen almost every day to selections. We sing together on the way home from school. The musical isn’t finished yet. She begged to stay up for the midnight release of a new five-song saga. (Not on a school night—sorry!)

And we talk about the story. About how the music interprets Homer’s saga. How Scylla in the musical has a personality. How Odysseus doesn’t sleep with Circe in this new version.

What is it about the ancient songs that make them endure even today?

Smarter people than I have written much more eloquently on the matter, but at least for The Odyssey, I have a suggestion:

Humans long for home.

Not a home. Home. Not just a place to rest. A place where you are longed for. A place where you are welcomed. A place where you are cherished and special.

Odysseus longs for Ithaca, his home. He longs for Penelope, his wife. He longs for Telemachus, his son. For ten long years he was away at war, and for ten long years he made the grueling journey home.

And we see ourselves in him. How long will you fight to get home? What will the voyage take from you? Is home worth it?

I encourage you to check out Epic. And read some ancient tales.

They’ll stick with you.

The Slow Agony of the Pen

There’s a frustration in a notebook.

I’m sitting at a craft fair, ready to sell books. The doors open in twenty minutes. The table is set. I don’t need to do any more work to be ready. This morning I’m solo; my wife will join me in about an hour after shuttling kids to various activities.

I’m ready to write. Eager. There’s pressure in my chest: Create. Create, Jon. It’s time to weave worlds out of words. Create!

But I’m revising a novel on my laptop. Of course the laptop isn’t here at the craft fair. And my notes for my next project also reside on the laptop.

Ah, but I have this notebook. Blank pages and a pen beckon.

And its tyranny is unbearable. The pages call to me, scream at me, tempt me to get in the water and drown in the waters of creation, gasping for breath as characters come to life with inkstains.

But the worlds that await cannot be on this notebook. They live on the gift of the laptop, where keys keep to the speed of imagination, unlike this pen, flowing ink as quickly as it can. The pen is a loyal companion. It needs no electricity. And it is here. Today. But it is slow.

And my story—it’s not here. It’s not in this notebook.

So instead of a world, I write myself, my frustrations, spilled on a page too slowly, in ink I make myself a character.

The doors just opened. People flow in.

I’d rather be creating.

WHAM! Debrief

I did it. I Wrote Hard All Month!

31 days. 51,000 words. One 40,000 word novel completed.

But… it was not as simple as all that. It started out well. I was flying!

And then my laptop decided it didn’t like me and deleted roughly 10,000 words. I had to essentially start over.

I was… very dejected. And rewriting what I had already written was a lot harder than I first expected. Had I already written this? Was that the previous version, or had I written it in this version? What disappeared between versions?

It took me… a while to catch up to where I’d been. But yes, eventually, I got there. In fact, I’m halfway done revising that novel already. (Which is good… this is the first novel I’m coauthoring, and my next step is to get it to the other author so she can work on her parts!)

It was good. It’s been a while since I drove hard like that, and it felt… right. It felt right to have a hard deadline again. So good, I’m going to attempt to write another novel right away.

Right after I revise this novel. And the other one I just got back from my editor.

So… maybe not writing one in the month of November, but within thirty days. How about that?

MOAR IDEAS!

It happened again.

I was pondering as I usually ponder and unintentionally came up with another book series. I told it to my younger boy, who’s twelve. He’s very eager for this new idea.

Why do I do this to myself?

Because stories are infinite. There are so many good stories out there. I’m incapable of writing them all down.

The new story is a fun sci-fi action tale with a strong superhero component. It’ll be different from anything else I’ve written, but let’s be honest: When have I ever repeated a subgenre? I’m excited about the possibilities.

The hardest part? I only have about a million other books to work on… and at least nine more before I can start working on this new idea.

Oy.

Maybe if/when I can switch to writing full time I can double my output and get all these stories out!

Chocolate Chip Celebration

As I type this at the dining room table, my wife is clattering in the kitchen. She mutters to herself, happy words, contented words, eager words. You see, she’s making chocolate chip cookies. As I describe her, she chortles. She is happy.

This is how we celebrate in our home. She makes the cookies. We watch stupid Youtube while we dunk still-warm cookies in milk. We laugh together.

And we celebrate lots of things. She finished an editing project. I finished a writing project. We survived Monday.

And she is such a blessing to me in this. See, I tend to not celebrate. As soon as I finish one project, maybe I take a day off, but then it’s right into the next project. Stop to celebrate? Why? I have other things that need to get done.

But she knows this wisdom well: It is right to acknowledge that good that has been accomplished. It doesn’t have to be anything big. For us, it’s an hour on an evening after the kids have gone to bed. And in that time, we get to rejoice together over freshly-baked treats.

Let me encourage you to learn what I am still getting into my heart: Celebrate the little wins, the big wins, all of them. This life beats us down enough.

Go eat a chocolate chip cookie.