Dr. Thomas O'Malley

Things like the passage below are why I carry a notebook everywhere I go. I get these ideas that I know will disappear in a few minutes. So I at least write down a few lines of what comes to mind, and then flesh it out later. It feels natural and obvious that it is part of the same universe, which is amazing to even myself. On a number of occasions I have had ideas and not had anything to write with handy, and the idea is lost minutes later, with only the shadow of inspiration left behind, and the regret of knowing I lost a great snippet of a hidden universe inside my own head!

It makes me think about how much potential we lose, how much creativity we all miss out on, simply because we don't take the time to write them down, or tell someone; or more importantly: because someone feels like their ideas aren't worth anything? How much progress could mankind make in a day if we had one giant species-wide brainstorm?

If we took as much pride in our own work as we do in the works of the ancient peoples, or spent as much time on our own 'art' as we do admiring the art of Hollywood, how much better would the world be?

"I have seen the city of Adrius. I have walked the streets amid towering colossi. My heart beat within my breast with an unrelenting excitement. What grand behemoths and indescribable achievements wrought by human hands! Such magnificent sculptures that inspired an ancient pride within my very being, carved with an almost unbelievable exactness to fool the unprepared passerby into engaging conversation with those persons that do no talk, or to smell the flower that do not grow!
Not since I visited the crumbling towns and quaint cathedrals on Earth have I felt such joyful excitement in having been privileged to descend from these inspired workers of stone and metal. What glory surrounds us daily! How fortunate are we to see such days! What greater achievements could yet be realized?"

-Dr. Thomas O'Malley. Imperial Archivist upon visiting Adrius for the first time, addressing the graduates of the Imperial College of Colonial Administration.

(Image Credit: Adam Burn)

Allfather

I wrote this in about 20 minutes while sitting in church, something we call a "stake conference". It was during a time in my life when I was feeling particularly drawn to my Norse heritage, and at the time was reading and watching more about who my viking ancestors were and what they were like. And while I am one of the furthest things from a Norseman, I do take pride in the fact that notable vikings are numbered among my forefathers.

Combine that with the strong feelings one gets from time to time while being inspired during a well-prepared and spiritual church meeting, and this poem is the result. I don't know how to describe it, but I'm certain I am not the only one who has experienced the amazing feeling of writing without stopping, and seeing the words just pour out onto the pages with no effort.

It makes sense though: when you write, talk, or participate in anything you're passionate about, things just seem to flow, and you engage in it easier. So when I combine two things I was passionate about at the time (and still am), it's not so much trying to write a poem as it is converting what I feel in my heart into a physical form.

Maybe that's a reason why reading someone's journal, watching a musical in-person, or playing with a child is so engaging? We're not merely entertaining ourselves, but actually connecting with another human being on a much more personal, and intimate, level.

That's beautiful to me.


I know not when that day will come
when the fight shall one day cease
and all my strifes shall be forgotten
to depart this world in somber peace

I know not when the horns will blow
the triumphant return of warriors home
and see the ships that carry us there
over endless seas with rolling foam

I know not how the sound will be
when the heralds announce my name
to the cheers of friends long lost
amid the heroes of ancient fame

I know not when I'll see the doors,
of mighty halls for faithful kin,
whether ancient stone or gilded lumber
swing wide and allow me enter in

I know not then, how long I'll feast
in towering halls, on tables long
or sit with friends by fires tall
and join in talk and righteous song

I know not when the silence comes
when knees are bent, and heads are bowed
when tears will wet the beards of champions
and holy peace moves through the crowd

I know not if He calls my name
or i simply stand when my turn comes
could I even rise from His feet
as my heart pounds as beating drums?

I know not, then, the warmth I'll feel
when we embrace, and he calls me Son
that lights my heart and fills my soul
as He announce my journey done

I know not what I'll reply with then:
All-father, friends, Great Spirit, God
or if he will simply beckon me forth
to enter His rest, with smile broad

But what I do know, after all is said
is that there I will be, amid friends true
for that is my calling, that is my quest.
And He will not fail me, after all I can do.

Napoleon Bonaparte is an Inspiration

One of the first things I hear when I mention that Napoleon Bonaparte is one of my heroes is, "Uh... ok." or  "Didn't he cheat on his wife...?" etc.

Without getting into too much detail, I think it is an unfortunate opinion in our modern times that we can only like, or respect someone if they are wholly perfect. Or, if someone has been labelled as a "hero" or "great person", then the discussion is over and anything in their history that is less than that is simply hate speech, or means you are trying to destroy what they fought for.

For example: Nelson Mandela. Was he a great man? Undoubtedly. Was he perfect? Most certainly not. But pointing out any of his imperfections suddenly aligns me with the apartheid supporters. Which is obviously untrue. I believe Obi Wan said it best when we argued with Anakin:

"You're either with me, or you're my enemy." Anakin Growled.

"Only a sith deals in absolutes." Obi Wan replied flatly.

And I think the same argument works both ways. We should be able to find the good aspect of everyone's lives, and we should be able to forgive anyone of their faults. I can enjoy a filet mignon with a side of sauerkraut and ignore the sauerkraut. Nobody is perfect, and nobody is wholly evil. Argue all you want, but find me one non-divine individual who was born perfect and died without wronging anyone, or someone that was born and died with evil in their hearts.

 Can I admire the things that Napoleon achieved without wholly supporting the other aspects of his life? I believe I can.

I said I didn't want to get into too much detail...and I disappointed myself! The reason for that introduction was that one of the things I love about Napoleon was the way he spoke (and wrote). Everything he said and wrote to family, friends, and enemies was calculated to arouse the exact feelings he wanted. Even personal communication he knew would one day be read by others, and used the words he wanted to illicit specific images and emotions. His famous speech to his Old Guard on April 20, 1814 before fleeing France into exile was one such calculated discourse, and an inspiration for Marcus' speech in Annals.

The speech, in its entirety, is as follows:

"Soldiers of my Old Guard: I bid you farewell. For twenty years I have constantly accompanied you on the road to honor and glory. In these latter times, as in the days of our prosperity, you have invariably been models of courage and fidelity. With men such as you our cause could not be lost; but the war would have been interminable; it would have been civil war, and that would have entailed deeper misfortunes on France. 
I have sacrificed all of my interests to those of the country. 
I go, but you, my friends, will continue to serve France. Her happiness was my only thought. It will still be the object of my wishes. Do not regret my fate; if I have consented to survive, it is to serve your glory. I intend to write the history of the great achievements we have performed together. Adieu, my friends. Would I could press you all to my heart."


What pathos! How many times did he plan this speech before he finally left France? My guess it was more than once. And most certainly not improvised. Here is the first draft my my version:

"Soldiers of the Fifth Legion, Imperial Dragoons, I bid you farewell. For fifteen years i have had the pleasure of constantly accompanying you on the road to honor and glory. In these latter times, as in the days of our trials, you have undoubtedly been models of courage and faith. With soldiers such as you our cause could not have been, and indeed will not be, lost; but the war against evil will continue interminable. I have sacrificed all of my interests to the ideals of my country, as I know you have as well, my friends. Those of you who have dedicated your lives to uncertainty, and did not hesitate to face the danger of these worlds alone, I will not ask to make this final sacrifice.
I go, I will continue to the Sides of the North, but you, my friends, will continue to serve the Empire. Her happiness was my only object, and it will still be the desire of my wishes. Do not regret my fate, should the gods see it necessary I survive, it will be to serve your glory. I intend to write the history of the great deeds and marvels we have achieved together. I wish I could impress the image of each of your faces upon my heart, and I regret that I cannot.
But know this, noble servants of honor and justice; should you choose to continue with me, your reward will be court martial and disbandment. I make no secret of the horrors that await us either, nor of the death that pursues us. I cannot say how many will perish, and how many more will never hold office or station in the Empire again.
I make the case plain before you, I say: should you accompany me onward, there is no hope of escaping. If you fight you will conquer, but if you flee you will fall. For we die today not only for our friends and family, but for honor, for justice, for the right. For our gods and our forefathers, and men before them. So pray to them to make us victorious.
The Empire is under attack, and her heart will soon be under siege, and I am leaving her in the hour of need. I fully intend to return when I can, but this I cannot, and will not, guarantee. There is still time for those who desire to make her rescue, but I leave on the morrow, and to those who do not continue: I love you no less. But to all of you who forge ahead at my side, let all the worlds tremble as they sense all you are about to accomplish! Onward brethren, on to the victory!"


(Image source: Star Citizen, Admiral Bishop Senate speech)

So I'm trying to write a book...

And for many reasons, this book shouldn’t exist.

Let me explain. There are billions of people in the world, and we all want to be the best at something. Some of us are the best. I am not one of those people. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, I’ve had a pretty good life and I’ve been extremely blessed. But it’s just the statistics of reality that we can’t all be the best. Some are destined for a life of mediocrity. Enter young me. I guess all the oldest-child-in-the-family out there understand that we kind of have to learn everything the hard way, most of what we do is a trial run, and by the time we know how to do it, the time is already over and we’re on to the next test. I played football for two years in high school, but I never got to set foot on the field except for a few times. I was in a few acting and drama classes and groups, I did well, and I even got the lead once in Jr. High, but that was when they needed something to justify the budget, and we didn’t have microphones that worked in the large auditorium. Which didn’t matter because the seats weren’t nearly halfway full on either of the two nights. My brothers and I earned our black belts in Tae-kwon-Do, but I still got thoroughly beaten at competitions. I didn’t get the best grades in my family, but I still got into the university I wanted, Brigham Young University. I loved school, I love learning, and I wish I had more time to sit and learn; to fill my noggin. 

I took a break from school to serve a two-year mission for my church in Brazil. I am happy with how I did there; I served the people, and helped everyone I could. The whole time I tried to be like the other missionaries I served with who were so much better than me, and that helped me improve, but stronger people did some good on a much bigger and deeper scale than I ever could. I returned home and applied to the business college at BYU, hoping to by successful like my father. I was denied. I played three years of rugby for BYU, they won three national championships while I was there, but I was never on the field when we won. I married an amazing woman, definitely my better half (I’m still convinced she married below herself), and while I try my best to be the best husband possible, I know there are men who do a better job than me with their own families. Am I sad? Not at all. I’ve certainly received more in my life than I deserve, and I’m thankful to everyone who has helped me along my way. But the pressure we all have to be the best was always there; never realized.

I guess that’s part of the reason I'm writing this book. While I served my mission in Brazil, I would write short stories while waiting for the bus, or while sitting in the hot sun waiting for a family to come home. Short paragraphs, or snippets of stories I daydreamed about. It wasn’t until some time later I realized that all these characters, these locations, and events, all lived in the same world inside my head, or rather, in my heart. So I set to writing. These characters who were whispering sweet nothings in my notepad under the hot sun, now poured onto the page. The locations grew into beautiful scenery, and the short conversations became plots and wars and deep friendships. 

Everything I read or watch always starts me questioning: "What would Dr. Swinehouse do in this situation?" or "If this happened in my universe, how would the people respond?" It's almost as if I have a completely separate, yet no less real world inside my head reacting to everything I see and hear.

The name of the book at the moment, is Annals of an Empire. It is a sci-fi novel, but I don't want it to focus on the technology, as much as it does on ideas, people, and places. I want people to be able to dive into a living world and actually believe that it's a place that can really exist.

I'm not writing this book to get rich, I'm writing because these characters are like family to me now. I’ve seen them grow up. I’ve shared their heartaches, their struggles, and their triumphs. I’ve tried to introduce new love interests, and felt them resist; I attempted to change how a scene plays out, but their personalities wouldn’t let me. Once I started putting them on paper, they took on a life of their own. I created them, but I know oftentimes they guided my pen for me, correcting me when I tried to make them do or say something that wasn’t “them”. I know nobody else in the world could share their story better than I could. That is something I know I am the best at, and I wanted to share them with you.

The beginning...

What does it take to be a good writer?

If you have come here for the answer, you are in the wrong place. There are a million self-help books, blogs, videos, classes, and tutorials about how to "be a good writer". And if you are anything like me, you're sick of being 'self-helped' by others. Everyone has a different opinion or "the magic secret publishers don't want you to know about".

If it's anything like calligraphy, which I recently took up as a passive hobby, then writing requires time and love. What a surprise. (See my VERY FIRST attempt in the picture)

Mostly, I needed a post to test my first blog and public post. But in my eyes, if you enjoy writing, and writing helps improve your life, or someone else's, then you are a good writer.

Am I saying that to mitigate any future criticism?

"You use the passive voice WAY too often in your stories!"
"Well it makes me happy, so I think it's good." I reply.

Maybe.