The sleeper must awaken

On Fridays I have been invited to write a piece of flash fiction consisting of 55 words, no more, no less-flash 55 at mister know it all's-. Blow the 55 is my continuation of my favorit authors series.

I wasn’t running away….

There is this thing about running away; I thought I wasn’t fast enough. My troubles always seemed to catch up to me.

“We both know I’m gonna kill ya”

“Yeah I know”



What I didn’t see was that I wasn’t running away from a pile of crap, I was running towards a mountain of shit.

By Chris McQueeney 2/3/12   9:16 PM

Favorite author series #4



A later paperback edition of Dune, with cover art by John Schoenherr.



Ok so the last author I wrote about was Tolkien; today I want to write about Frank Herbert. Like Tolkien, Herbert was a master of world building. I think the first time I read Dune was around my eighth grade year. I had the good fortune of finding good authors without trying.

There was this little used book store in in Nampa Idaho across from the Albertsons. I loved the smell of that place. At one point in time it was a doctor’s office, but the doctor retired and the book store came into being. I am not proud to say this…I probably stole my first copy of Dune; I lifted quite a few books from that store, being without money and possessing a flexible character, this didn’t bother me at the time. Now I wish I could go back and give twenty or thirty dollars to the owners (used books were cheap in the 80’s) but they haven’t been in business for about fifteen years.

I got my first copy of Dune there; I don’t remember stuffing it in my pants. but I do remember pulling it off the shelf and looking at the cover, the cover shown in the picture with this post. I had seen the movie and thought it was cool, and I loved the music playing at the end where Paul was kicking some imperium ass, I had to have it.

Like The lord of the rings, and some of the Pern books, I have read Dune about two dozen times, if not more.

Herbert was a brilliant author. He, like Tolkien, could drop hints of a vast history in his stories, and not have it confuse the reader. Where he differed was that he laid an outline in story form for his world and it’s past to be written as a saga even after his death. Tolkien saw into a world where magic and valor and horror was the norm; Herbert saw way into a future where non thinking machine technology, genetic manipulation on a grand scale, and imperial machinations are the norm.

By Chris McQueeney

"Without change, something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens.

The sleeper must awaken."   Frank Herbert

"He who controls the spice controls the universe"    Frank Herbert

Not all who wander are lost. J.R.R. Tolkien

Echoes the best

I do not try to mend the bell

For that way

Lies pure folly

Cracked though the bell may be

From inside that void

Echoes the best

Of me

Chris McQueeney 1/12/12 12:13 PM

Favorite author series #3

In the future you will read from me about authorsthat have brought me here. When I say here I mean to this place in my life where I am writing. Writing has always been a dream of mine...and I am doing it.

For now I am writing short fiction, poems and non fiction. I do have one fiction book in the works, but that one will take some time to write. I decided that my first book would be non fiction, maybe posed as fiction, because not many who don't know me will believe the crap I put myself through...

Back to the topic at hand. Where I want to go eventually with my writing is Sifi and fantasy. The author that I wanted to talk of today Is J.R.R. Tolkien, who's quote is the name of this post and also the inspiration for my blog and blog identity. Tolkien took a style of writing and revamped it by not only telling a story, but by building a world around his story. That is what is so good about his writing. Correct me if I am wrong but I think the whole concept of world building was created by Tolkien. In his writing he is not telling a story, he is taking one thread from a vast tapestry, unweving it a short way and letting you view the images on it with a magnifying glass. So skillfully does he do this He was then able to put that thread back with no one the wiser for years.

This brings me to the reason I am not writing fantasy yet, world building. I don't want to use someone else's world at this time, and I have not begun to build one of my own yet. I want to hone or establish a style, and get more practice before I wander in that direction....but I will!

Chris McQueeney 2/1/2012 10:49 PM

The above poem was inspired by a poem from Erin's In search of white space. I couldnt find the direct link to the spacific poem, but the link I have will take you to a page that has the poem, just scrol down to post from Jan 11th 2012 I was going to write something funny or smart assed but I couldnt think of anything so just click here!

Books.....

This post has been inspired by a post from a fellow blogger by the name of Ben Ditty, Nice old spice is his blog and I have had a lot of fun reading his work, and seeing his responses to comments. Although he does have a strange fetish with small cone shaped hats....

Fantasy comes closer to reality.

                The other day in class we were discussing an essay and the instructor( Crumrine, 4/15/2011) made a statement (I’m paraphrasing, and possibly completely butchering) that people give fiction altogether  too much power; that they believe fiction will influence people to act in a way they normally would not.  While I agree with him for this particular situation, I don’t believe fiction is given enough power. 

                 When I say fiction, I’m speaking of fantasy, and science fiction, but I would like to think that my beliefs hold true in all realms of fiction.  One small story can have the power to change your life. I started reading fiction in about the sixth grade. At the time I didn’t realize it, but I think it saved my life.

                The Smallest Dragon Boy (McCaffery, Get off the unicorn, 1973, Del Rey) was my first venture into the world of fiction; I was in the sixth grade, and the year was 1989. For the past six years I had been in anger management, because of fighting, and outbursts in school. My life was a living hell. My mother and stepfather beat me on a regular basis. My teachers treated me like I was slightly retarded. The other students verbally and physically abused me. I had suffered sexual abuse from a family member.

                I still remember that day. I was sitting in class after being called into the principal’s office; the principal had spent fifteen minutes or so telling me what a horrible child I was, and that my life wasn’t going to amount to anything. I felt hopeless, and small, and to top it all off my teacher wanted me to read. I didn’t have the will power to get into trouble again so I opened my book up.

 A picture of a boy and a small dragon were what piqued my interest.  I started to read. In the time it took the rest of the class to read I had read it three times. The story spoke to me. No, the story shouted to me!  You may be small, you may be a dork, and the world may use you as a punching bag, but in the end you will end up with a bronze dragon. I started actually reading that afternoon, and I haven’t stopped since.

I’ve read thousands of books, tens of thousands of stories over the last twenty years, and that one short story has had the most impact. I think in fiction the authors can be more honest. I think they can tell the uncomfortable, the ugly, the sad, the scary, and the beautiful truths that they couldn’t tell any other way. 

Chris McQueeney 4/2011

God rest a giant.

"The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning." - Robert Jordan

James Oliver Rigby Jr. 10/ 17/48 – 9/16/07, Born twenty nine years and one day before me, otherwise known as Robert Jordan. James was best known for his books in the Wheel of time series, passed away four years and two days ago.

I remember the day I first bought one of his books. I walked into the IGA just down the street from my house hoping they had replenished there book supply. On the top shelf in the si-fi section (I say section and you may imagine a vast selection of books to be had, alas, that picture is not so, the selection consisted of six books) sat The great hunt. Yes, I thought, after weeks of mining the same shaft, a strike. On the cover a man holding a horn was watched by a strange creature and a beautiful woman, this intrigued me. I hurried through the check-out line, and rushed home to devour that 600 page book. Three days later I started reading the book for a second time.

Fast forward fifteen years. I had been trying to keep up on James’s battle with cardiac amyloidosis, poorly because I had almost no Internet connection. I opened up the Internet and went to his home page and learned he had died. I cried. I remember feeling as if I had lost a part of my soul.

I am now writing and have been writing for about a year; almost my whole life this voice of mine has been trapped, stuck behind doors I couldn’t even see, only feel. James was one of the reasons I held onto hope. The beauty and intricacy of his work compelled me to seek, to continue seeking that voice.

Thank you James, lovingly known as Robert Jordan, may God rest your soul.

(The following poem has no ties what so ever to the above story)

Senselessly  

Senselessly you walk through the door

Trampling those you have sworn you adore

Stopping here and there

To examine the fruits of your labor

Blithely you stop and stare

At your handy work laying there

What’s wrong you ask

Without any real care

The falseness behind your eyes

Stark and bare

Senselessly you walk back through the door

Leaving those trampled you have sworn you adore

BY Chris Mcqueeney 9/18/11