MRK: As I mentioned in my last question I had just finished reading "The Man Who Tried to Get Away." It gave rise to some questions about POV narration and character empathy.
Of course the story, as are all the Man Who books, are told from Brew's perspective so all events and characters are portrayed through his perception of them. You have said in the past that you have empathy, to some degree, for all of your characters. However, you seem to have placed some pretty unlikable characters in TMWTTGA, i.e. the despicable Houston Mile and the twisted sociopaths Mr. and Mrs. Hardhouse. Brew certainly didn't have much empathy for them (maybe a little for Lara at first) and I certainly didn't. I was able to identify with Art Reeson at least a small amount, and at least with Houston as far as rabid desire for survival goes, but that was the extent of it. If you, or anyone else, had little or no empathy for them, I could hardly blame them. Is this possible since you are so invested in seeing everything through Brew's eyes, rather than through many as in a third-person narrative? (of course there's Ginny, who is close enough to Brew to be his other half) Or is the empathy simply not obvious since we are never placed in those character' shoes, as we are with say, Angus Thermopyle or Master Eramus (or Nick Succorso or Holt Fasner for that matter). Note: I hope this question made sense; I've been struggling to express it in a comprehensible way. And, in a related question, have you ever at any point considered doing a split-first-person narrative in a Man Who story, with some portions narrated by Brew and others by Ginny? or giving narration duties over to Ginny entirely? ("The Woman Who Kicked A** and Took Names"?)
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I guess my answer is that the empathy simply isn't obvious. After all, just because *I* have committed empathy to characters like Houston Mile and Lara Hardhouse doesn't mean, well, anything about my narrator's emotions. And it certainly doesn't mean that I personally *like* Houston and Lara. No, it just means that I've set myself aside enough to stand in Houston's place, or Lara's, and to think what they might be thinking, to feel what they might be feeling. Instead of, you know, treating them like bits of machinery to keep the story moving along. So what does empathy *mean* in a case like this, where everything that the reader gets (on any obvious level) is filtered through my understanding of my narrator? I like to think it means that I've managed to make Houston and Lara *real* enough (in spite of my narrator) to inspire questions like yours. After all, isn't empathy the only thing that ever makes another human being *real* to us? If my characters were just wallpaper, or machinery, you wouldn't be posting messages in the Gradual Interview. <grin> As to your related question: I've considered any number of approaches to the next "The Man Who" book (including third person omniscient and present tense narration, both of which I dislike). But I don't really have a story yet. Until I have a story, I can't try to figure out how to tell it. (06/03/2009) |
Tom Radcliffe: I just want to say that I am a huge fan of your novels; Thomas Covenant in particular. I just finished "The Real Story" and have to say it's the greatest book I've ever read.
Now that the fanboy inside of me is at ease I will get to my question. I have read the Thomas Covenant stories a few times and absolutely loved them. Recently have I just cruised through the Harry Potter series and noticed something odd in the last book "The Deathly Hallows". The ending in TDH is almost exactly the same as what you did in "White Gold Wielder", except happier and Harry doesn't die. I guess my question is why are the endings so similar? I know that fantasy writers like to borrow certain themes, ideas,and character templates but I just can't wrap my head around this one. The more I think about it the only thing that I can come up with is that Harry Potter is Rowling's answer to "What would have happened if there was a guiding force, or the creator, controlling TC?" Could it be that simple?
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I have no answer. I wrote WGW long before Rowling wrote "The Deathly Hallows" (and I still haven't read the Harry Potter books, except for the first one). I can't possibly know what she was thinking when she decided on her ending. But I'm reasonably confident that her stories grow out of her own imagination: they aren't "borrowed" from anyone, or extrapolated from anyone else's work. (06/03/2009) |
Grim: Dear Dr D.,
As you likely know, your experiences with teaching are not unique; It is painful and the rewards are often posthumous. Hypothetically, however, what if you had (on pain of mutual obscurity and descent into poverty) to convince a student to write a short nonfiction text describing a few recent years of work, yet said individual being of sound mind, is deathly afraid of putting pen to paper for fear of grammatical or other inevitable errors? How would you, or perhaps Thomas Covenant if he knows the answer, proceed?
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If the "student" uses fear of "grammatical or other inevitable errors" as an excuse for not writing, then he/she just doesn't want to write. ("Any excuse is good enough when you don't want to do something.") After all, we're all human: we all make mistakes. So using "mistakes" as an excuse not to write is transparently Just An Excuse. And there's no "fix" (that I know of) unless the "student" is willing to examine his/her unwillingness more honestly. (06/03/2009) |
Tom: Hi, Mr. Donaldson,
I just want to thank you for answering my previous questions. Much appreciated!
But now the time has come to explain this little tidbit (from the GI 2007):
"Someday when I'm feeling mellow, and I have *lots* of free time, I'll describe how "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" changed my life."
I don't think you've described this yet (at least I couldn't find it on the GI). Maybe you were just joking?
Tom
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So in the middle of a fight, one of the turtles (I forget the names) turns to another and says, "Wait a minute. We're TURTLES. The outcasts of society. How come WE have to stand alone against the forces of evil?" And the other turtle replies, "Face it, dude. It's the only job we're qualified for." When I finished falling about, I had an epiphany (although it may not make sense to anyone else): my life is the only job I'm qualified for. Simple insights for simple minds.... But even simple insights can be profound, under the right circumstances. (06/03/2009) |
Gerald: A question from January about Dune and Herbert's son got me wondering (and I hope I didn't miss a similar / identical question elsewhere in the GI):
(as an aside: I realize this is a rather personal question, but I ask anyway - I hope you are not mortally offended)
Some well known / legendary authors (Tolkien, Herbert, Asimov) have had their universes expanded or possibly re-interpreted by their offspring or other authors.
What do you think about this? Does it invoke any kind of reaction to you? Obviously, when you are gone there's not much you can do about it - but do you have any strong feelings one way or the other about future generations attempting to write & publish stories based on your worlds? Do you have any plans that would enable or prevent such an occurrence?
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(Please keep in mind that this is entirely personal and subjective. I do not intend my own opinions as a comment on ANYTHING that ANYONE else does.) I'll never give anyone else permission to publish stories based on my worlds. In my (personal, subjective) opinion, people who want to write should rely on their own imaginations, not on mine. And I've expressed my feelings to the people I've chosen to be my literary executors. But I've also assured my executors that I trust them to use their own best judgment. And in particular: if something unfortunate happens to me before I complete "The Last Chronicles," I've given my executors (AND NO ONE ELSE) permission to finish the story--IF, and only IF, my executors actually *want* to tackle the challenge. (Incidentally, "literary executors" are people named in my will to become the owners of my copyrights when I'm gone.) But every writer is different. Just because *I* feel this way doesn't mean that anyone else should agree with me. Honest and honorable people think differently. (06/08/2009) |
Andrew Kennedy: My question concerns editing/re-writing an initial draft. As a lawyer, I write every day. So I am always keen on improving my craft. I recently stumbled on a rule of thumb advocated by authors like Stephen King and John Grogan: strive to cut your first draft by 10%. Since I tend to overwrite, I think the percentage might be a bit low for my writing. Instead, I try to merge sentences, eliminate paragraphs, and remove sentences, clauses or words wherever I can. My writing is more clear as a result.
Do you use a similar rule of thumb in editing/re-writing? Do you believe that it is a common technique among fiction writers (who I assume you'd have more first hand knowledge about)?
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As I'm sure I mentioned a long time ago, when I get together with other writers, we virtually never talk about actual writing. (I discount panel discussions, where the comments are necessarily selective and somewhat artificial.) So I don't know how very many other writers do things. Yet I, too, aim to boil my first draft down by about 10%. (I had no idea King and Grogan do the same thing.) And "boiling down" seems an apt description. I seldom whack out entire chunks--and when I do, I usually have to write something new to replace them. Much more commonly, I'm looking for ways to make what I've written both more clear and more efficient. And because I write so slowly, a fair amount of unnecessary repetition creeps into my first drafts. (Well, it's necessary to *me* in my first drafts. But it usually isn't necessary to the reader, who hasn't forgotten what he/she read 20 minutes ago.) So a fair amount of my rewriting revolves around trying the make the same point, say, 2 or 3 times instead of 8 or 10. <sigh> There are people who believe that I could reduce my books by 10% just by cutting out every third adjective. Well, maybe.... (06/08/2009) |
Michael Blue: Hello.
I would like to know if the 2nd chronicles of Donaldson's Covenant series was sold as a box set like the 1st series? I found a box set on eBay, so I want to know if there might be a set out there like the 1st that I found.
Thanks,
Michael Blue
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If any of my publishers ever did a boxed set of "The Second Chronicles," *I* sure never saw it. Omnibus editions, yes. Boxed sets, no. For the obvious reason: sales of the first trilogy as a boxed set were poor. (06/08/2009) |
Reuben Hartgerink: Stephen,
I just finished reading Chaos and Order for the first time, and must say that I am very impressed with the GAP cycle so far. I can't wait to finish the series off.
I do have one question though. In A Dark and Hungry God Arises, there is a section where Morn is quite concerned that the Amnion have acquired a sample of her blood that contains the immunity drug. I got the impression that the cause of her concern was that knowledge of the "structure" of the immunity drug would potentially allow the Amnion to further develop mutagens against which the drug would be ineffective. In Chaos and Order, however, Morn encourages Vector to broadcast the formula to anyone with ears... including the Amnion.
My question is, would such a broadcast not also allow the Amnion to counteract the immunity drug?
Thank you for your time. I look forward to the end of the Gap Cycle, and to Against All Things Ending.
-Reuben
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I guess it's always that way with weapons technology--or with any competitive form of "progress". (Do I need to mention the "arms race" of recent memory?) Sure, knowing about the immunity drug will give the Amnion a chance to develop a counter-mutagen. But while that happens, humankind needs the immunity drug *now*. And once the immunity drug becomes widely known--and studied--humankind may have an easier time developing a counter to the counter-mutagen. All of which (as I recall the story) would probably have already happened if Holt Fasner hadn't contrived to suppress Vector Shaheed's original research. So it goes between competing imperialisms, especially when each has very different strengths. In any case, broadcasting the formula for the immunity drug is the only way to prevent the knowledge from being abused by entities like the UMC. Withholding knowledge is an important step toward tyranny. (06/08/2009) |
sonke johnsen: You've mentioned being ADD a few times now. Being the same myself, Covenant's frustration at never knowing whether he can access the power of his ring struck a chord with me (in fact, it usually makes me laugh). I'm not sure if you experience being ADD in the same way, but I can never know whether I'll be able to access my own mind, and it seems to get worse with age.
Just curious if you ever thought of Covenant's ring as a metaphor for your head. Thanks and hope the writing goes well.
sonke
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The unconscious mind is both strange and clever. As it happens, I didn't become familiar with the concept(s) of ADD until I had children myself, *years* after I finished the first six "Covenant" books. Looking back, I can see that the term describes me pretty well. But I wasn't aware of the term, or its concepts, when I created and wrote "Covenant". And I certainly DID NOT model Covenant on myself. Well, not consciously, anyway. If you see yourself in Covenant, the credit goes to my unconscious mind. (06/08/2009) |
Michael from Santa Fe: I love short stories, they are a nice break from always reading just novels. I love yours and wish you would write more of them but I understand about the "one track mind" and being in the middle of Covenant now. So, I'm looking for recommendations for short stories. What is your favorite short written by someone else? Favorite collection? I ask because the authors who you have recommended in the past (Russell, McKillip, Erickson) have all been great (IMO). I have read some of McKillip's short fiction ("Harrowing the Dragon" which contains many of her shorts but not all was excellent) but unfortuneately the other stories are hard to find. Any other recommendations would be great!
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Like most people, it appears, I don't read many short stories. (The average short story collection sells a small fraction of the average novel. It's a miracle, really, that my short story collections are still in print.) If I really enjoy what I'm reading, I usually want it to last longer than a short story. However, if you're willing to go hunting for out-of-print books, look for "Strange Dreams," an anthology of short stories which I edited. (The book got good reviews, but nobody bought it, so it went out of print almost immediately.) The "gimmick" of the anthology (if that's the right term) is that the book is composed entirely of short stories which I couldn't forget once I'd read them. Incidentally, Erikson has published some outstanding short fiction; but you might have to search under his "real" name, Steven Lundin. (06/08/2009) |
Bob Benoit: Stephen -
Earlier this month you answered a question concerning works of yours of which you are most proud. You mentioned that "Long sections of TPTP, TOT, and WGW seem impossibly well written."
Rather than ask which sections to which you are referring, I would rather ask you to give some insight as to what sets those passages apart for you? What makes them seem impossibly well written? It's probably not an easy question to answer, but even some small insight would be welcome. Thanks and good luck with the re-writes.
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I use the term "impossibly well written" because I don't (can't?) write that well anymore. Under the right circumstances, the elan of youth can sometimes accomplish things which the craft and experience of many years can't emulate. (Although I have to say: even at the time, I had the strange and wonderful sensation that I was writing better than I knew how to write. Perhaps I was channeling my unconscious mind more directly than usual. It's certainly true that "craft and experience" tend to complicate the process of "channeling my unconscious mind". <sigh>) It's tempting to conclude that I was a better writer then than I am now. However, I choose to believe that I'm simply a *different* writer now than I was then, with different strengths--and (inevitably) different weaknesses. (06/08/2009) |
Sam: Hi Steve,
Greetings from across the pond. England, to be precise. Yorkshire, to be preciser still.
So....to my questions. I'm currently studying for PhD in chemistry and am in the middle of writing my thesis. It's taken 3 and a half years to this point and as I write I find myself having to constantly refer back to old papers, notes and lab books as there is so much that I've done that I can't remember. This brings me to my point. On reading through the Gradual Interview it astonishes me how you can remember the tiniest details about your works, down to your thought processes behind each choice, even for those published decades ago (OK, that almost certainly deserves a <sigh>). When people ask you a question do you go back and check in the books or is the entire saga committed to memory because you've invested so much of your time in it? Did you have to re-read the first and second chronicles before starting the last? If you did I hope you enjoyed it. Do you ever 'daydream' about the Land and muse upon scenarios that you never intend to commit to text?
I apologise if you've answered these questions before, but I wasn't sure how to search for them appropriately.
As I'm a scientist I don't really possess the eloquence to describe how thrilled I've been to read your books. Therefore, I'll just say thanks very much.
I think I'll go and order the Gap books while I await AATE.
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My memory is nowhere near as good as I sometimes make it look. <rueful smile> So yes, I re-read the first six books before I started on "The Last Chronicles"--and I annotated those books heavily--and I took a mountain of notes--and *still* I forget salient details. So yes, sometimes I do take the time to check the text for the answers to specific questions (my own as well as my readers'). But even *then* I get things wrong, so fortunately I have personal readers who are very good at helping me keep track of what I've done (not to mention what I'm doing). "Thought processes" are easier to remember, if for no other reason than because I spent a great deal more time on them than I did on "the tiniest details" (therefore they take up more shelf space in my over-crowded mind). But no, I never "daydream" about the Land. And I certainly never "muse upon scenarios" that I have no intention of writing. I do, however, muse upon a *wide* variety of scenarios for those portions of the story I haven't written yet: testing possibilities, probing their implications, searching for narrative approaches or strategies which may actually work (and, ideally, work well). You might say that I daydream *ahead*, but not in any other direction. (06/10/2009) |
Anonymous: Reflecting back a bit on the 1st Chronicles, one section of The Power That Preserves that felt a bit odd what was when the three Stonedowners go to seek one of the Unfettered. Like it was an out take. Don't get me wrong. I loved that section of the book, it was a great brief interlude from the main story and its conclusion was absolutely chilling. But at the time in the previous two books the reader had always been connected to the story by either Convenant or Hile Troy (I think). Later in TPTP, long sections of the book were narrated through Mhoram, but at the point he was almost as important to the story as Covenant. What was your thinking to including this section and did you or Lester ever talk about not including it? I'm very glad it was left in.
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I understand your point. This chapter--even more than the sections from Mhoram's point of view--violates my general narrative stance in regard to Covenant's Unbelief. (Mhoram has been in the story for so long that he can be considered a symbolic extension of Covenant.) And in fact I did discuss it with Lester del Rey. We came to two conclusions. First, the material doesn't stray very far from things Covenant already "knows" (so, we hoped, the violation doesn't feel too profound). Second, if the reader hasn't accepted Covenant's attitude by now, he/she never will accept it anyway. Nevertheless, in retrospect I consider this chapter a "design flaw" in TPTP. By my present standards, it *does* undermine the integrity of the reader's relationship with Covenant. I'm not the kind of guy who actually wants to go back and rewrite his old books. But if I were writing TPTP *today* (as a new book), I would struggle mightily to find a better narrative solution than the one I settled on back in the mid-70s. (06/15/2009) |
Meredith N: Dear Stephen,
I've been a fan for the last 5 years, having read all of the Thomas Covenant books up to date, Mordant's Need, and just now the first two books of The Gap Series. I suppose my question will be considered typically female, but my concern drives me to ask it.
Why all the rape and victimization of women? Why are you driven to destroy both soul and flesh of nearly every woman in your novels, especially those who play a lead role? I realize that these women also demonstrate a sort of primal strength in survival, but I am still left wondering why you depict so many women as living their lives in subjugation...fighting, but entirely hopeless.
I know that I cannot really say what motivates you personally to write these things. I've read your commentary about Angus and how you feared that he was truly a public revelation of your own hidden darkness, but that doesn't really tell the whole story does it?
I appreciate your desire to keep your personal life just that, personal. But could you please give me some indication that you know women who are more than survivors, who are able to live their lives with joy, sense of purpose and wholeness?
My apologies if I have offended, but I am one of the many women who feel personally pained at your depiction of women, even while I immensely enjoy your literary talent and ability to weave tales.
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I've been procrastinating here. Similar questions have come up (and have been answered, here and elsewhere) fairly often, and now I find that I'm tired of them. (Please don't take this personally.) Or maybe I'm just tired in general. So I'm going to approach your question indirectly. Bear with me. And forgive me if I sound exasperated. That's the fatigue talking. First, I grant that my protagonists (men as well as women) lead very difficult lives: in some cases raped (metaphorically and/or physically), in most cases victimized in one form or another. Neither Terisa Morgan nor Linden Avery has been raped (physically). Both Thomas Covenant and Angus Thermopyle have been dramatically brutalized, if in very different ways. [Brief digression. Without pausing for thought, I could come up with a list as long as your arm of important female characters in my books who have been neither raped nor victimized. If I did so, I could start with Giants, Ramen, or Lords in "Covenant," Min Donner or Mikka Vasaczk in the GAP books, all three of King Joyse's daughters in "Mordant's need," or Ginny Fistoulari in my mystery novels.] Certainly the rape of Lena in "Lord Foul's Bane," and Morn Hyland's experiences in the first two GAP books, stand out. As they should. But they are not thematically unique. Indeed, they are thematically universal. What happens to Angus in the GAP books is not less of a violation than what he does to Morn. What Covenant endures is not less hurtful than what he does to Lena. This is WHAT I DO. It isn't optional for me. I write about the damaged and the maimed, the violated and the bereft. And I seek in them the seeds of regeneration, healing, salvation, honesty, integrity, forgiveness, love. Broadly speaking, I don't have anything else to write about. And anyway, who else *needs* to have these kinds of stories happen to them? Who else could benefit from the possibilities which my stories provide? Certainly not the healthy and the happy, the whole and the unharmed. But still: why rape? From my perspective (which is exclusively my own), that's the same as asking: why leprosy? Why zone implants and gap sickness? Why...fantasy and science fiction? Because I'm a writer who works best when he has access to physical metaphors for emotional states, psychological conflicts, spiritual quests. I use "the external"--as well as every other resource I can think of--in an attempt to shed light on "the internal". (Why else does Mick Axbrewder take SUCH a beating book after book?) On this subject, I want to paraphrase former US Poet Laureate Billy Collins. Among other things, he says that he writes a poem to express an emotion for which we have no name, no direct language. In effect (he says), the poem *becomes* the name of that emotion. So it is with rape in my stories. And maiming. And sickness. And abuse. And possession. They are part of the "language" by which I'm trying to express emotions/needs/conflicts/yearnings that have no other name; that cannot be conveyed by simpler means. (I also want to cite Edgar Allen Poe at this point; but I'll spare you.) I could argue--if I have to--that the whole of the first "Covenant" trilogy is an attempt to *say* what the rape of Lena MEANS. One example (from a work of fiction, admittedly, but not from my fiction). A woman is locked involuntarily in a box and abandoned. Later a man finds and rescues her. He asks, "What was it like?" She replies, "It was like being locked in a box and abandoned." OK, it was a light-hearted work of fiction. But what else *can* the woman say? ("It was like being buried alive." I'm sorry: that doesn't help. Analogies are only useful when they refer to shared bodies of experience.) Her only meaningful alternative is to tell the story of her life (of herself) up to, during, and after the experience. So I write stories that include rape. And leprosy. And child abuse. And zone implants. If I want that "meaningful alternative," what else *can* I do? (06/16/2009) |
Michael Stover: I have a small story from your past to share that your readers may enjoy (and you may too):
Back in 1984 or '85, you guest taught a week-long writing workshop at SUNY Brockport (with Nancy Kress). I was 14 or 15 at the time, but you were already my favorite author, and I participated in the workshop, giddy as all hell! I wrote a (bad) story, and what I remember most about the experience, was how seriously you took me and my story. No one had ever done that before, and I thank you for that.
You may not remember, but we played some charades at the end of that workshop, and you were on the opposing team from me. We used titles of works of fantasy/scifi, and it was my great luck that you randomly picked my chosen title when it was your turn to act out the charade. The title I'd chosen was "The Chronicles of Amber". I still remember your consternation when you first read it and I enjoyed a moment of student-trips-up-the-teacher joy.
But then, after a moment's consideration, you did it, and with apparent ease! It is a fond memory for me.
Not so much a question, but rather an observation I've always had concerning the Oath of Peace: It always seemed to me that that both sides of the struggle between the people of the Land and Lord Foul were more powerful during the time of Kevin than they were during the time of Mhoram. Certainly the Lords of Kevin's time were more powerful than the Lords of Mhoram, but it also seemed to me that this was balanced by the forces of Lord Foul being more powerful still in Kevin's time, so that, in both cases, straight-forward resistance against the power of Lord Foul was doomed to fail. I always attributed this to the Oath of Peace, that somehow, it limited the power of both sides, not just the Lords.
I welcome any comments friom you on any of this.
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Interesting. I remember that workshop with Nancy Kress, but not the game of charades. And I can't imagine that acting out "The Chronicles of Amber" was easy (!). The credit should probably go to my team, not to me. Personally, I don't see how the Oath of Peace could have "limited the power of both sides". How would the scruples of the Lords hamper the Despiser? No, I attribute Lord Foul's corresponding "weakness" (if that's an accurate description of the situation) to the fact that he lost vast armies of servants and cannon-fodder in the Ritual of Desecration (a detail which troubled him not at all): losses comparable to, if very different than, the losses suffered by the Land's defenders. (06/17/2009) |
Bob DeFrank: Hello and I hope your writing is going well.
A question about ur-viles: how do you envision their body type?
The way you describe their ears and noses and how they go around on four legs or two legs makes me think of rabbits or some other rodent-like creatures grown to large proportions. Other times they seem like dogs. Is there any particular type of animal I should look at in the real world to get an idea of how ur-viles look and move?
All the best.
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In May, I posted a link to a web site that depicts a pretty good ur-vile. But that image may not answer your question about body type. How should I describe it? Is it the dingo that has longer forelegs than hindlegs? The hyena? I'm thinking of something along those lines, but without the massive chest that often supports longer arms (e.g. gorillas). (06/17/2009) |
Tom: There has always been a lot of talk in the GI about a movie version of the Covenant books. However, I believe one has already been made - three, in fact. In my opinion, the Matrix trilogy has many parallels: a reluctant savior transported to another "world"; an epic battle against an unstoppable foe; self-sacrifice to defeat the enemy.
I don't know if those movies were to your taste, but do you have an opinion?
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I enjoy the Matrix films. But the parallels aren't as obvious to me as they are to you. Neo isn't at all reluctant to enter the alternate reality. His only problem in his former "reality" is that he's bored or dissatisfied. And his only "reluctance" in his new "reality" is that he can't immediately wrap his mind around his new powers. After that, he seems eager to discover how far he can stretch his abilities. (06/17/2009) |
JK: Would you pick any music to go along with the reading of your work
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Not if you held a gun to my head. (Well, *maybe* if it was an ACTUAL gun. <grin>) Like reading books, listening to music is entirely subjective. I couldn't "pick any music" unless I had an intimate knowledge of *your* specific tastes. And even if I knew that much about *you*, my answer would be irrelevant to everyone else. (06/17/2009) |
Susan: This question is actually from my boss and he has given me the task of doing is complaining, so here it goes. He is annoyed with the format of Reave the Just and Other Tales. He was especially annoyed that The Penance was randomly interrupted by another short story.The Penance without the randim interruption. If you could do this, I would be much obliged. Thanks
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Curious. In regard to "Penance," the only response I can think of is that your "boss" must have read an entirely different story than the one I wrote. (06/17/2009) |
Mike: I, like others, have been anticipating the sequels to Thomas Covenant. I realize the time it must take to develope the stories. But seriously - 3 years apart between books? Where will you be in 2013? Where will I be?
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That the future is unknown is a fact that we all have to live with. The best laid plans etc.. But I look at it this way: I can't make good things happen by planning for them; but I can *prevent* good things from happening by *not* planning for them. So I make my plans; and then I try to carry them out. But why three years between books? Because I NEED that much time to at least approximate achieving my intentions. No one regrets that inconvenient truth more than I do. But it is what it is. I could only work faster by expecting less from myself; and I decline to do that. (06/18/2009) |