One Step After Another

I spend a lot of time thinking about what I’m going to write. Conversely, I spend an even greater time thinking about what I’m not going to write. The ideas that feel too great, or that I simply don’t trust myself to give proper attention to. Space operas and epic quests. Fifteen-book-long story arcs that end in a cliff-hanger that could only be resolved with a few prequal books to round out the lore. Maybe an interesting magic system that’s simple to understand, but difficult to master.

I think about these things a lot, and sometimes it can get overwhelming. I stress about the times I’m not writing, and that causes me to think too critically about what I will write. It causes me to write less because I feel like the moments I do give to writing have too much weight, that if I mess it up then it’s all been for nothing. What if I write that space opera and the characters fall flat, or the names of planets sound too silly (Does the Garthax Nebula sound stupid?). These feelings well up and compound on themselves, and it can be a bit overwhelming to say the least.

I’m afraid of writing because maybe I won’t be good at it. I’m afraid of not writing because maybe I would have been good at it. I’m afraid to read my own work because my words could get jumbled, and we are our own worst critics. And I’m afraid of all of you, you scary bastards.

That being said, the words are gonna get written eventually. Whether I write them down, or you do, they’re going to make their way to the pages. And if anyone’s going to get the credit for writing a fantasy world where rats are the dominating lifeform and they all have katanas, then I’ll be damned if any of you freaks are gonna beat me to it.

I kid, but these feelings really do creep up on me sometimes, as I’m sure they do with anyone who wants to write. I saw in an interview with Kevin J. Anderson where he talked about the concept of writing. He talked about it as if it wasn’t optional for him. That deep down in some people, they can’t properly survive unless they do the one thing they feel they were designed to do. What would the point of having a machine that stamps documents if there were no documents to stamp. What would its purpose be. I guess it would just collect dust in a warehouse somewhere.

I’m getting off subject. What I’m trying to say is that regardless of how good you think you are, or how terrible you may be; what’s the alternative? Whether it’s writing, or drawing, or making cupcakes that look like Wayne Gretsky. You were designed to do something. So, you better start getting on it, because none us are getting any younger, and the rust is already starting to set in. I fuckin’ dare you.

Collected in this short publication are writings that either haven’t made past the drafting phase or are generally early in development. A lot gets left on the cutting room floor, which isn’t to say they’re abandoned. It just means that they’re “In the works.” Ya dig?

The idea to collect these stories together came about mostly from a place of necessity (and a recommendation by my ever-supportive fiancé). Although I am getting better at finishing projects, it can be demoralizing when some of those get left behind for one reason or another. With this, it gives me a good chance to revisit the sparks of inspiration that caused these stories to get started in the first place. Not to say that every story here is made equal. In fact, some that may be collected here can and will be finished, but it gives me a good outlet to put their bones on display.

The format of this series is anyone’s guess. Lost in Translation is a place for my mind to wander, a living journal to track the insanity hidden between the lines. It’s a repository of my ramblings and ambitions, for the thoughts that go unnoticed. And if a good story inks its way in, then that’s just a bonus. So, hold on to your butts, because once the band aid gets ripped off, there’s no going back.

From the words of the great Ze Frank, "Warts and all, let’s start this shit up."