Category Archives: Literary Focus

Books, Magazines, even Manga – all things literary.

My Story, Jake’s Story: The Writing of a Novel

Foreword

Some time ago I drafted an essay for an English Comp. class. I ran it past a well-acknowledged literary professional at a local writing center, and they believed the writing to be quite good. The essay begins with a prologue to my novel, not included here, and discusses the technical process of writing (what it takes to develop a masterful writing style), as well as the up’s and down’s of the publishing world. I wrote in a style characteristic of one of my novel’s characters, an Irishman by the name of Aedus Butler. It’s much less formal and much more witty.

My Story, Jake’s Story

This isn’t my story. Far from it. It’s about Jake Laskaris, a seemingly average teenage boy with extraordinary powers. While my tale, my yarn of a narrative, may not have my novel’s, The Labyrinth of Cosa Nostra (LoCN), explosive properties, it literarily packs a punch. Yes, literarily is a word. I had my doubts too. If it was literally, you’d have a very sore jaw right now.

To avoid common stereotypes of writers, I’d be wise to clarify about my novel journey and myself in particular. I like adventure. No, scratch that, I love adventure, and not just writing about it. When I first went zip lining, I was a bit shaky in the legs, just like I usually am after giving a speech, but I knew I was going to have an amazing time, so I went for it. White water rafting was… well, insane to say the least. While we navigated the malevolent, white crested river, our guide told us all the ways we could die. If we were to, say, make a mistake on the next bend, our boat would be pulled underwater and we’d be crushed.

This is to say, I have experienced my share of adventures. Therefore, I am quasi-qualified to state that writing a book is just as thrilling, just as frightening, and just as worth it. Though that comes later. Before I could be up to bat with a novel, I needed to prep myself, just as I had to sit through the safety protocol of one of these events.

My first lesson was a fun time because it involved reading, one of my passions, and something, despite my other shortcomings, I’ve had a sure grasp of. Certain novels were a bit trying though. I had been told, through books by authors of bestsellers and all across the grand internet, time and time again: READ READ READ. All caps, I realize that’s yelling, but I would’ve deserved a scolding if I had disregarded this simple tip. Reading is the bread and butter of any good writer. And if I couldn’t have gluten, then it would be the gluten-free brand. That is to say, if I was not at the level where I could read high-level books, I had press on until I got there. Because until I had at least a partial comprehension of the English, The Count of Monte Cristo, and not the kiddy version, I wouldn’t have the literary comprehension I needed to proceed and succeed in the various genres of the writing world. Therefore, I took this advice, and I read.

I took reading classes, not because I was behind in the game of comprehension, but because I knew I had to press forward to find the golden nuggets that would provide me with the wealth of knowledge that I so desperately needed to be up to par with the amazing writers of this world.

Once I had read a great deal, I wrote a great deal. I finished a novelette in ninth grade, wrote a serial, submitted short stories to a contest, and finally, when I felt comfortable that I could write something worthwhile, I drafted my current novel. It was slow-going at first, until I reached scenes of passion, action, and humor. Then it all began to flow so much easier.

In my mind, it was as if a film were playing out. I could see the story going by in completed form, in all its grandeur. I longed to see it become a reality, so I wrote. I wrote till’ my faculties were spent, then I went to Barnes & Noble’s Starbucks and started writing again, this time munching on a blueberry scone. I sat staring at the blank paper until the next antagonist was presented, until the next bullet let fly and I would record the event in a flurry of pen and paper. The pen is mightier than the sword, for the pen may envision. It may create. It makes declarations of great import. It captures the human element.

Writing this novel wasn’t just a simple process of envisioning a story. At the end, I did not just experience euphoria, I felt a part of the tale. Now as I contact agents, ascertain a publisher, and the bookstores are persuaded to carry my book, it shall be shared with the world. A sentiment I could not have imagined back in Middle School, because I was so far from my goal. Even now, I have those areas that I struggle with.

I struggled to write fluid paragraphs, with neat transitions and sufficient imagery, while not going overboard into superfluity. I did the latter for far too long. I cringe when I look at my past manuscripts. Stories which I started, but didn’t have the confidence to finish, and then stories that I finished, but that I didn’t feel were worthwhile to share. It felt like a hopeless endeavor. As if I were on a weight loss plan, starting off a one-thousand pounds and making my way down to a hundred. An extreme example, yes, but it is truly telling of the emotions that were at play in my heart. With time, however, which equated to many years, I started to notice my own progress. I began to like my own writing, and instead of being my own worst critic, I built myself up through constructive criticisms, and by heeding the advice of others.

Now I struggle to get it out there. It, being my novel. It, being that stack of papers that I, as the cliché goes, poured my heart and soul into for many, many hours every day. There, being the world. What stands between me and my readers, is no longer just myself. It’s the agents and publishing companies. After my first query letter, my first attempt at pitching an agent who would help me make it to Barnes and Nobles shelves, I received a rejection within about twenty minutes. Oh, and it wasn’t a form rejection either. It was only five words telling me they were passing on my project. No reason, whatsoever. I moved on, because I wasn’t going to give up after I had gone so far. I tried another agency, followed by a couple more. I altered my pitch to sound better, give them what they wanted to hear. I waited. No response. In the traditional publishing world, no response is as good as a rejection. Nevertheless, I moved forward. To this day, I still don’t have an agent, but I will. I must.

Writing a novel wasn’t the romantic journey I expected. I didn’t get there right away, and it took a lot of hard work. That’s the American dream having the opportunity to succeed, and working hard to achieve your aspirations. It’s been worth every moment. The thrill I feel in writing transcends the action I experience in the physical, and I want to share that sentiment with everyone who is willing to open up my book cover and relish the words within.

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Make That A Triple Stacker: Manuscript Completion

Manuscripts and Burgers

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Not quite like writing, though much more delectable.

What is quite like the feeling of completing a book? Perhaps completing a burger (veggie or meat, take your pick)? I believe the latter’s jubilant expression, mixed with grease and morsels, is hardly able to compare with the writer’s exhausted cry. Especially since the former is often accompanied by abdominal pains and regret of the worst sort… unless it’s a slider. Those are more harmless.

“Ludicrous, appended to my delicious tropical friend…”

-Jean Rusé

Literary Excursion

With some parallels to the foodie fandom, the writing journey is filled with a series of stages, often including bouts of perseverance, jubilation, courage, ingenuity, boredom, aggravation, and rain clouds (“Writer’s Block”). When the haze of conflicting emotions finally fades, however, all that is left is triumph and relief. In my case, there is also an overwhelming sentiment of gratitude.

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“The Three Tier Papier”

It often takes a measure of encouragement to get a good book going, to establish momentum, and I’m grateful to those who have joined me in cheering the story onto completion. It does, at times, seem to be a very detached process, the story unfolding itself like a scroll tossed in the wind. This is why I include myself in the story’s audience, for some details are only revealed in the process, and I am equally awed as the reader when they come to light.

Seeing the story in its printed form, aside from word count statistics and page numbers, was a surprise at first. It looked very much the manuscript I was hoping for, although it was shy of aspirations of a few hundred pages.

Two-Cents Worth

While assembling the book, I found it tremendously helpful to keep a “To Do” .docx or Pages file on hand, to jot down ideas and plot points which had yet to be resolved. On occasion I’d visit Barnes & Noble’s Starbucks and brainstorm whilst (as I put it last time) munching on scones and sipping smoothies and hot cocoas. As an INFP personality, I found it imperative to set a deadline, even if I couldn’t reach it in time. It was better to have a goal than to leave it unrestricted, likely to fade into the oblivion of daily life. Break-time was also a must, both in maintaining a healthy lifestyle and retaining concentration.

“Have you finished relaxing?”

-Mr. Lombardi

Book Excerpts & Quotes ©2012 Zechariah Barrett – All Rights Reserved

Publishing Efforts (& photo): And now… we wait!

Waiting for food...

Writing is one of my favorite pastimes (if you haven’t read the About Me page yet), albeit the action of finishing a particular work always seems to be substantially more gratifying than the process of creating (this is not to say the process of creating is lacking in enjoyability). This may be due to the fact that particular roadblocks may present themselves during the work, such as the infamous Writer’s Block.

Debatably better is the act of publishing (excluding the path of finding a publisher) which takes one’s work and distributes it for the enjoyment / enlightenment of others. Key are these final statements: enjoyment and enlightenment.

Reading is a fantastic means of entertainment, yet it may also prove to be an effective means of teaching. One of my greatest aspirations (aside from my life’s goal) is to devise a novel which will change the life of its reader, I dare say my 400 Years of Silencestory, when at its fruition, may do

The X-Structure

I have often come to a standstill in my writings, or even before the writing has begun, when an idea is simply in its infancy. You may note I have a curious description for my 400 Years of Silence (Play): "It started with a simple project, then as God's hand became manifest, the story unfolded." By this I refer to the process by which the story came into being. One day, desiring to write a play of Biblical significance, I sat down at the computer with my outline sheet and opened the Word processor. Then, calling to remembrance my purpose, I said a simple prayer, asking God to give me words that would bring Him glory, or else to take them away so that I could not write. When I began typing, it was a quick process, and I found the play was devised before an hour's time. When I came to improve upon the story later, I found myself at a lack of words with which to write. Then I prayed again and what was to be written followed suit.

just that. However, that is dependent upon future events, and at the very moment, it is quite inapplicable.

In relation to this, today I submitted three separate manuscripts for publishing. One was my 400 Years of Silence (Play & Short Story), the second being its gratis counterpart, solely the short story. Last of all is the annotated version of my War at Our Doorstep six-hundred word short story, all of which will be elaborated upon at a later date.

The stories in their current state are available here, the updated versions should be hitting markets sometime next this weekend.

War at Our Doorstep

War at Our Doorstep

The annotated version of War At Our Doorstep delves into the story, uncovering important details and casting light upon the story’s various ambiguities. The story provided in this post is the original, unannotated version.

The frailty of life is a lesson learned by experience – the likes of our daily existences. Every day, when the fading crimson and golden-hued light gives way to the blackness of night, the menacing drone of bombers and the shrieking alarm which announces their coming brings fear into the heart of the community, and although all do their best to find safety in their homes, their shelters often become their prison unto death.

It all started three weeks ago, when the first HWK-325 emerged from the night’s sky followed by a score more of its kind. The residents of our humble town knew little of the ways of war and were unprepared for the onslaught to come. Many lives were taken that first day, mainly of those who did not heed the alarm. Since then, many of us have not dared to set foot out into the now foreboding pastures of our country which holds such terrors in the night. Our storehouses we have filled with what sustenance we may until the bombers pass (which is our one last hope). Those who have lived to see the bombers firsthand, such as myself, have reported many great wonders, such as the arrival of the AGL-435’s, great white bombers of extraordinary size which fought against the HWK-325 in a war of unknown causes. Perhaps they warred for control of our land, for every day they would annihilate a few of our land’s kind residents in their destructive conflict.

One night, following the death of my only son, I decided it had to end. I didn’t know how, but I would

This is an image I’ve used previously for various video projects related to War at Our Doorstep.

end this once and for all and bring peace to our land. I gathered my family together into our living room and held, perhaps (for I felt a great foreboding), our one last meeting. My wife was the first to speak.

“Honey, you can’t go!” she said with fear and anxiety upon her face. “Nobody has ever left their homes at this time of night and come back alive. Think of your family! Your –” she indicated with a movement of her hand our precious babies, all now teens but for our child of three. “Our children! You can’t leave them without a father. There’s no chance of success; you can’t reason with a bomber! How do you expect to fight them?”

Doubts filled my mind for a moment, but I cleared them away with a shake of the head. “Something must be done,” I said resolutely. “If I die, at least I will be an example for the community – to stand up for our families and fight. We have no hope cowering in our homes, we alone have the power to conquer this plague to our land. I’m certainly no David, but I will stand before many Goliaths. You can’t deter me from this; we must take a chance. Have I ever not returned? I will come back… and I pray with tidings of peace.”

Here is the enhanced version of a photograph I took some time ago of this bird of prey which ascended upon our porch. One of my revisions entailed increasing the level of detail in this graphic in order to accentuate the pattern upon the wings, sharp eyes, talons, etc.

I embraced my children and wife one last time, and journeyed out into the darkness. However, I saw at once my mission was a futile one, as a dozen bombers descended from above, their sights no doubt set upon my now quivering form – it was now too late to turn back. With one fell swoop, one swift action, my soul was carried unto heaven. What would become of my family and our town? Was there any hope to be had?

“Mommy, mommy!” a little girl’s voice sounded in the distance. “A hawk just caught a bunny!”

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Copyright © 2012 – All Rights Reserved

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (Review)

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows

Image via Wikipedia

“A five minute game?”

-Sherlock Holmes (Robert Downey Jr.)

“If you think you can manage it.”

-Professor Moriarty  (Jared Harris)

Take the world’s most famous detective, a singular and most riveting case, add an arch rival, comedic brother, and a medical companion with a knack for gambling – stir, bake for 25 minutes under the cover of a bullet proof oven and out will come a piping hot Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows. 

Critical analyses go anywhere from five stars to zero – with a plethora of praises and distastes. The film takes an initiative of which its predecessor partially abstained. In the first film, one may recall a deal of action, yet the overall plot was filled with a rather supernatural air of mystery and peril, with Sherlock Holmes’ deductions casting light on a seemingly foggy night. Once the big reveal is made, we find a case of dramatic proportions.

“This is so deliciously complicated.”

-Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows rids itself of superstition and focuses entirely on action and rapidly-paced deductions. A war is on the brink, and only Sherlock Holmes can stop it. The stakes are higher than ever before, thus, an action film rendition of Conan Doyle’s literary feat is what we find at the theaters.

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows opens onto a crowded London Street, following the urgent pace of Irene Adler (Rachel McAdams). With a singular-looking package in one hand, and a homeless gent following quick behind, we find ourselves immersed in a suspenseful endeavor. The man rushes up beside her, covertly steals her package, and warns there are two men behind Irene with “unsavory” motives. Sherlock Holmes is on the case with one of his many disguises. Irene makes a humorous jibe about Holmes’ apparent situation of poverty, then enters an empty alleyway and stops three men joining her. Irene takes back the rectangular package from Holmes and reveals the men are her guards, ensuring the safe delivery of the package. With a few flirtatious remarks and a kiss goodbye, she hurries off – leaving Holmes to deal with the formidable thugs. A fight immediately breaks out, and it is uncertain who has the upper hand. Sherlock knocks one man to the ground while another shoves his head through two unsteady wooden beams. Holmes recovers and once again joins the fray. As two police officers walk by, Sherlock Holmes plops into an odd seating position and the thugs toss him a few coins, feigning innocence. During this time Sherlock Holmes deduces their next moves in the fashion of the first film (boxing scene deductions) with slow-motion observations with voiced over deductions, with a speedy follow-through of punches, jabs, grabs, and slams – leaving the enemy out cold. After scaring off his final opponent, Sherlock resumes his investigation.

“Did you kill my wife? …you just threw her off a train!”

 -Dr. Watson

“I timed it perfectly.”

-Sherlock Holmes

One thing happens after another – Irene dies, explosions abound, and Watson decides to get married.

Professor Moriarty. From the Sherlock Holmes s...

Prior to the marriage comes a party filled with gambling, fortune telling (by Sherlock Holmes to a key character gypsy), a rotund and comical Mycroft, and  a series of thwarted assassination encounters. Watson gets married, boards a train to honeymoon, and finds himself in danger as Sherlock “knocks antlers” with his arch-nemesis Professor Moriarty, the criminal king who is bent on fortune and glory. Will Sherlock manage to best his foes, or with he lose all that is dear to him? Such secrets are hidden in a game of shadows…

“Now are you sure you want to play this game?”

-Prof. Moriarty

“I’m afraid you’d lose.”

-Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock Holmes Featurette

Critical Review

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows is the best installment yet, and I certainly hope for a third to exceed my expectations. Robert Downey Jr. makes for a brilliant Holmes, utilizing all the quirks of Conan Doyle’s original character with a few new aspects, such as a greater romantic interest with Irene. Likewise, other characters have been “remodeled.” Mycroft Holmes, the self-secluded introverted twin of Holmes (sharing the same, even better, deductive abilities) became a comedic relief in the film, creating the only nude scene present (again, for humor. The nude scene consists entirely of Mycroft holding a newspaper while talking to Mrs. Watson about a telegram he has received from Holmes and Watson who have delved deep into their investigation. He acts normally, and there is no sexual innuendo aside from the fact of Mycroft’s nudity. He is ignorant of the opposite sex and is acting purely out of this vice.) I personally enjoy the extra additions of action and suspense and appreciated the film’s dramatic “reference” to The Final Problem (Sherlock Holmes book by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle). (Spoiler [highlight to read: the scene is question is the second to last. Where Sherlock Holmes plummets into the waterfall’s depths with Moriarty, leaving the audience to think them dead. The final scene where we find Sherlock Holmes camouflaged, sitting in a chair while Watson types his memoir, was not in the novel, albeit I thoroughly enjoyed it nonetheless.)

“Competent but predictable – now allow me to reply.”

-Prof. Moriarty

Christian and Family Perspective

The spiritual concerns I had noted with the first film (drawing of the pentagram by Holmes, and virtually the entire nature of the case until we learn it is all faux) are not a problem with this sequel. There is a fortune teller, however, and before she has the chance to make any prediction, Sherlock interrupts and (mockingly) informs her that he would like to tell her a fortune. He picks up the cards and uses them for illustration in his points: she has been driven to drinking, has a brother whom she holds dear, and a client who has come to kill her.

From a Christian and family perspective, this movie is a bundle of fun with a plethora of concerns. There is a gypsy woman whose occupation is fortune telling. The demonic is not, however, as fully pressed in this movie as it was in the first. Before she can even get out a word of Sherlock’s fortune, Sherlock tells her he would like to give her fortune. He uses the cards while presenting his points, then rescues her from an assassin. Therefore, it is not as dark as one may suspect from the previews, yet the concept should be noted. There are many fights, such as those between Sherlock and Watson against various mobs, including at a place where gambling is taking place. This movie, taking into account the action, flirtatious content (to be discussed in the full review), should be suitable for children aged 15+ (Common Sense Media recommends age 14+, however, it may be a bit much even for fourteen year olds, depending on their maturity level and “tolerance”).

-Adventure Writer's Blog: Preliminary Review

In addition to the points noted above, there is also a great deal of alcohol consumption.

“Never let these gypsies make you drink (paraphrased).”

-Sherlock Holmes, who proceeds chug down the gypsy's wine.

This film is certainly a pleasure to watch for the most part, although it is certainly not a family film, as it is unsuitable for younger children due to the above points.

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows – Notes & Quotes

“Hidden within the unconsciousness is an insatiable desire for conflict.”

English: Sherlock Holmes (r) and Dr. John B. W...

Image via Wikipedia

-Prof. Moriarty

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows is the most action-packed of both films – it retains the same deductive reasoning and slow-mo transitions that the first movie introduced in a most unique fashion. This will be elaborated upon in my full review.

“Unlike you, I repress nothing.”
-Sherlock Holmes (Robert Downey Jr.)
“Perfectly normal.”
-Dr. Watson (Jude Law)

From a Christian and family perspective, this movie is a bundle of fun with a plethora of concerns. There is a gypsy woman whose occupation is fortune telling. The demonic is not, however, as fully pressed in this movie as it was in the first. Before she can even get out a word of Sherlock’s fortune, Sherlock tells her he would like to give her fortune. He uses the cards while presenting his points, then rescues her from an assassin. Therefore, it is not as dark as one may suspect from the previews, yet the concept should be noted. There are many fights, such as those between Sherlock and Watson against various mobs, including at a place where gambling is taking place. This movie, taking into account the action, flirtatious content (to be discussed in the full review), should be suitable for children aged 15+ (Common Sense Media recommends age 14+, however, it may be a bit much even for fourteen year olds, depending on their maturity level and “tolerance”).

Faithfulness to Conan Doyle

The film includes a scene or two which appeared within the original Sherlock Holmes stories, however, aside from those, the film has taken a different, one might say fresh, turn away from the original novels and characterization. Mycroft, Sherlock’s brother, is much more outgoing than he is portrayed in the novels and is used for comedy relief. Sherlock retains his oddities and singularity, plus his deductive qualities, yet has changed in other respects. He has more of an interest in Irene Adler than he had in the novel – exchanging kisses and flirtatious notions. In the original, he merely had an admiration for her, bordering on love. Watson is… well, that is in itself a long explanation and I will save that for the full review.

400 Years of Silence: Six-Hundred Word Story

400 Years of Silence

It started with a simple project, then as God’s hand became manifest, the story unfolded. 400 Years of Silence is a creative interpretation, written in duet play form and short story prose, of the 400 year period between the Old Testament prophets and the birth of Jesus Christ. In that time, there was no word from God, until the cry of a baby broke the silence on that glorious night when the savior of the world was born.

On one cold September night, a man sat pouring over the Holy Scriptures of God. The room was dark, but for the light of a few feeble candles, arranged around the man’s place of reading, casting a yellow tinge against the dark stone walls. As he finished reading the final verse of Job, his brother Mannaseh entered the study.

“Naaman, my brother!” Mannaseh exclaimed. “What are you doing reading that old thing? It’s been four hundred years since that god of yours proclaimed anything to His people – resign this insanity of yours!”

“Insane I may be,” began Naaman, motioning to the scriptures before him. “But these prophecies Isaiah speaks of…”

“Forget the prophecies!” Mannaseh interjected, with an ever reddening visage. “Those were simply lies devised by the old Kings of Israel.”

“Yet why would the kings seek their own destruction?” Naaman reasoned, his tone measured and calm, yet with a hint of desperation. “It is by God alone that…”

“I relent brother, I relent…” cried Manasseh, storming out of the room. “I leave you to this self-ordained madness!”

Naaman sat half-bewildered, still gazing at the last verse before him. Job didn’t have faith either… then God revealed himself in a most glorious way.“My brother may not believe,” Naaman said to himself. “But I feel the spirit of the Lord is strongly manifested on this night. God will not be quiet forever, He will come after his lost sheep.”

Night soon fell, and Naaman retired to his study. Perhaps the next day would bring about a glorious awakening – one could only hope.

When the cock crowed the next morning, all the citizens of the land awoke to the realization of the day. It was the time of Caesar Augustus’ fateful decree, the census of the entire Roman world, and all were required by mandate to register themselves. Naaman had gone, his brother Manasseh with him, to register at the same time of Joseph and Mary.

“Ah, what a day is this!” Naaman spoke cheerfully, as their horses trod down the road.

“Always the cheerful one,” Mannaseh remarked disdainfully. “What is it you find so worthwhile in life?”The brother responded with a grin.

“Unlike yourself Mannaseh, I find joy in the coming of a savior.”

The horses slowed as they reached the crowded registration center, Naaman cast his gaze around, taking in all the town had to offer. On one side there were various vendors, promoting their wares, which consisted of food, cloth, or trinkets of interest. All of a sudden, however, something or rather someone in particular caught his eye – a pregnant woman among the masses, accompanied by a man named Joseph. Mannaseh followed his brother’s gaze and saw an opportunity to torment him in his purported evident superstition.

“See here brother!” Mannaseh said exultantly. “This couple, claiming to be followers of God have committed a momentous sin against the commandment of the Great Creator! Engaging in that which is sacred to marriage. What do you say in defense of your fellow brother’s and sister’s grievous reproach?”

Naaman looked confidently into Mannaseh’s eyes as he delivered his retort.“Man is inherently sinful Manasseh, who can know the bounds of depravity? Even a godly man or woman may fall into the bounds of sin. Yet my God is a merciful one, as seen with David and Bathsheba.”

Manasseh laughed, perceiving Naaman’s confidence as utter foolishness. “Such hypocrisy.” Manasseh remarked simply. “How may one be the follower of a perfect God when they themselves are imperfect?”

“For this very reason God gave us repentance through sacrifice.” Naaman answered. Though in my heart, stirring within my spirit, I am confident that God will do away with this ritual and bring us to Him through a most glorious and perfect way.”

Manasseh stormed out of the room, furious. Naaman’s superstitions had advanced too far, venturing into the realm of insanity. When did Naaman first convert from a normal child to a hopeless religious advocate? Manasseh could recall the event with superb clarity, such were the profound events surrounding it. It was upon the celebration of their father’s thirty and sixth year, when their life as a family changed forever. A tear fell down his cheek as a torrent of memories immersed his consciousness. It was a terrible day indeed.

Despite the silence of God, human life and faith in Biblical teachings persisted. The world did not end, it continued as it had before, trusting in that which had come before. One may dismiss the past as irrelevant, the things of old as rubbish to be discarded. However, there is much to be gleaned from antiquity – trial and error is a necessary process, yet it may be expedited with knowledge of another’s prior prosperity and misapplications. While God did not proclaim through prophets, His Word spoke volumes. And so it was, until the greatest proclamation came to be – the wondrous birth of Jesus Christ which ended the four hundred years of silence and brought about a means to salvation which had been foretold generations before.

Afterword

It is with a longing to expound that I conclude. Yet the story of Manasseh and Naaman will not go untold. Time brings with it many things – and writing is no exception.

NOOK Notice: This material is protected by copyright.

Copyright © 2012 – All Rights Reserved

The Founder of Tragedy

Continuing where we left off with Alexandre the Great and company, pictured below is the famous (perhaps infamous, as we’re discussing tragedyPierre Corneille!

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War at Our Doorstep: Teaser Video

Lately I developed a YouTube video which displays one of the excerpts of my War at Our Doorstep story (Copyright © 2012 – Adventure Writer’s Blog).  Simply made by using Mac’s iMovie.

Soon I’ll be posting more book / movie reviews, etc.

It has certainly been a busy week! It’s difficult to comprehend how fast the month has passed, being December already. Time flies when you… have a busy schedule?

Inheritance Has Arrived

This month feels like it should be “book month” for me, having all these fantastic novels showing up at my doorstep. Speaking of doorstep… Inheritance has finally arrived and it is a staggering 860 pages long! The House of Silk review will be out shortly, though I can’t say the same for Inheritance…

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The hazy background emphasizes how far I have to read.