Wednesday, October 31, 2012


Nanowrimo starts tonight (or tomorrow for people in other parts of the world). I decided this would be a good time to actually finish something I started and so I am going to write a novel: Dreams in Ebony.

Here's a bunch of philosophical garbage concerning this impending work:

In the case of Dreams in Ebony there are many unbelievable characters who engage in some rash and unbelievable acts and therefore, like fantasy, the author must work harder to legitimize the characters and their actions or risk losing the reader or worse: misguide the reader down a path the author did not want the story to go. This is, as stated before, not fantasy, not erotica, not a dime store romance, but rather a dark drama of sexual deviants. And despite the dark nature it is imperative that the end result of the work bring the reader to a good place where this chaotic world somehow settles into something more palatable; or at the very least, a return to normalcy, a cool breeze that hits the face of the movie goer as he steps out of the theatre.

Furthermore, or perhaps, deeper down the rabbit hole, a writer is bound by the oath of morality to create a positive message, regardless of how antipodal that message may be, for his reader due to the inherent dangers of parables woven into all stories and their ability to effect the moral compass in the subconscious mind of the masses. Think of the effects of violence in television or the rise of sexual promiscuity, a product of the expanding porn industry thanks to the Internet. These things are excellent examples of writer’s oath (or the oath of any artist) ignored. Gun don’t kill people, people don’t kill people, the media, the writer, the artist, the musician, the photographer, they kill people.

-D. Gage

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