This is What Happens…

Hello, Kingdomers….uhhh… Kingdomites…. or whatever the followers of this here blog call themselves. For those of you who don’t know me, I am Revis Edgewater; First Knight of the Matticus Kingdom and co-author of the Jester’s book, The Erratic Sun. If you don’t already have it, I’ll wait patiently while you either go here for the paperback version or here for the Kindle version. Now that I’ve gotten that shameless plug out of the way, let me get on with telling you why I’m here.

Normally, I play on my own blog, but since both Matticus and I contributed to what you’re about to read next, I figured I’d stop on by the Kingdom. It’s been a while since I’ve made my presence felt here anyway.

Below is an exchange that took place between Matticus and I earlier today. This is what happens when we have enough time to email each other while we’re at work:

Revis: To err is human. Wait…. you’re human, right? Or are you some cybernetic jester from the future who also happens to write????

Matticus: I’m not a robot.  Definitely not.  Trust me. *creepy grin*

R: Damn, I was hoping for a robot friend. If Fry gets Bender, how come I can’t get one?

M: You make a valid argument about the Fry/Bender situation.  Though, they both also have a Cyclops for a friend… so… even  if I was a robot, which I’m most definitely not, we are both still getting gipped in the friendship department. 

Also, we need a space ship.

R: Well, we don’t have a cyclops friend, but we do have a dinosaur friend. Does that count? We also have a ship. It’s called the Erratic Sun, remember? We just can’t fly it…. 

M: We do have a dinosaur friend, that’s very true.  And I have a ninja-knight, a knightly ninja, as a friend.  Can’t get much cooler than that.  And, yes, we do have a spaceship.  A very nice one.  I’m not sure why you can’t fly it?  I’ve taken it for a couple spins around the galaxy…

R: Wait, Terry lets you fly it??? He never lets me!

M: Hmm… That’s weird. I’ll have a word with him next time I see him.

R: Yeah,  whenever I ask to fly it, he mumbles something about not wanting to die…

M: Have you given him a reason for doubting your ability to pilot the thing?

R: There was that one time I crashed that hovercar because I saw a squirrel, but that wouldn’t happen in the Sun. There aren’t any squirrels in space.

M: Squirrels in Space, the movie.

R: Oh, sure. Take Terry’s side. I see how you are.

M: That’s not what I was doing!! I was changing the subject….  😛

R: Yeah, right. I bet you two go out on weekends and party without me…

M: Only once or twice.

R: I knew it! I’m the third wheel!

M: No!!! … you actually have to be around to be considered the third wheel, right? 😛

R: Do you think Al Gore would’ve still invented the Internet if he knew that this was the kind of stuff we’d do with it?

M: Yes!  He’s the biggest prankster of all!

 

Author Interview – Matt Blashill – The Erratic Sun and Fauxpocalypse

toofulltowrite (I've started so I'll finish)

Good evening everyone.

I have been lucky enough to speak with author Matt Blashill about his latest release and his approach to the art and craft of writing.

So without further ado, let’s begin.

Matt – thank you for joining me today to talk about your creative processes and what drives you specifically as a writer.

Thank you, David, for including me in your interview series. I’m always a little surprised and a lot humbled when people want to talk to me about writing.

You have recently published a collaborative novel with Michael Hansen called “The Erratic Sun.” Please fill us in as to what genre(s) your book falls into, why you called it that and what we can expect to face when we dive into it?

“The Erratic Sun” is a science fiction novel about the crew of the titular ship who find themselves in an unenviable position during…

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Let them go

The words dance in my head,
And I listen to them,
And then I let them go.
Because, you know,
Their waltz, you have all said,
Isn’t what you came here for.
They aren’t why I started either,
Though they were always there,
Moving to the beat of the fire,
That burns fiercely,
Blistering my insides,
Never allowed to bubble out.

But, what if I unleashed them,
Set them free to raze,
Would I find relief then?
A lie, a sin,
They would spiral round all prim,
Elegant and impeccable timing,
A show for all to praise and watch,
But even at that hour of the clock,
I would find no peace in the ticks and tocks,
To spill the blaze here,
Would be to disappoint others,
And that pain would be far worse.

So, I shall endure for a time,
As best I can,
With the flames eating my soul.
I’ll hide the toll,
Of this facade, this ruse, this grime,
That is the brave face I wear,
Despite the obvious cracks and tears,
And the holes, where flames grew too near,
Doused quickly to hide my fear,
But the singed edges remain,
And the tatters thin and break away,
Until, I need not worry, for nothing will be left.

“and then *poof* he was gone”

Sack Nasty

You’ve heard of it, right?  A collection of prison poetry by Ra?  Yes?  Familiar?  I thought so.  You already have a copy?  Fantastic.  You don’t…?  What are you waiting for?

I’m not likely to tell you anything you don’t already know or couldn’t guess on your own.  The poems are gripping and insightful.  The voice and tone are true to Ra’s signature cadence.  The power of the words will force you to pay attention and make you think.  This poetry packs a punch.  And yet, there is a thread of driving hope, also a signature of Ra’s writing, prevalent throughout.

The poems uncover truths some might not see the value in shining a spotlight on, and some might not even believe are truths at all.  The poems discuss life and death: the often minuscule layer between them, the search for life behind bars, and the reluctance to admit that death is even a possibility.  The poems reveal the pain in the loss of one friend and the joy in the discovery of many new ones.

My words aren’t likely to sway you.  I doubt there is much I could say here to send you racing to buy the book, or to have you decide it wouldn’t interest you at all, but…  If you do happen to be on the fence, I would urge you to give Ra and Sack Nasty a try.  I think you will enjoy what you find within the pages of this book, this collection of prison poetry.

Why Should I Believe

You claim to be omnipresent. You are a liar.

Where were you that night when she cried your name? You were nowhere to be found; at least you weren’t by her side. Where were you?

I hope your alternate selection for protection was a suitable one.

You allowed him to lay hand on the base of her neck and squeeze and utter those words so vile.

She lost her soul that night because of you, not him. She plaintively wailed and begged for your return, but you were off. At best case, you were saving countries and lives; at worst, you were answering a lothario’s prayer for a lay. You couldn’t even return to comfort her after the act. You were just too busy.

If anything positive arose, it was me. She finally closed her tear filled eyes. When she opened them, I appeared and she was happy to relinquish control. I have no soul. I promised to protect her. Unlike you, I kept that promise.

May the breath from your prayer return to your lungs in the form of acid.

May your hand sear as it touches my head, not hers. You can only wish to touch hers, but you can’t. You had your chance. You weren’t there. Why should she believe? Why should I believe?