Author Archives: ogresan

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About ogresan

Richard Parks' stories have have appeared in Asimov's SF, Realms of Fantasy, Fantasy Magazine, Weird Tales, and numerous anthologies, including several Year's Bests. His first story collection, THE OGRE'S WIFE, was a finalist for the World Fantasy Award. He is the author of the Yamada Monogatari series from Prime Books.

Such Stuff as Dreams are Made On

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Epi Les Paul Special IIWhen a kid picks up the guitar at twelve they might be dreaming of being the next Buddy Guy or Jimmy Page or Bonnie Raitt or Rosie Flores. When one of us starts writing seriously, we might be dreaming of being the next Flannery O’Connor or William Faulkner or Ursula Le Guin or Stephen King or Arthur C. Clarke or…well, pick your own poison. Those are what I tend to think of as “flash paper” dreams. Doesn’t take much to turn them into smoke and vapor. Usually a couple of years of working hard and getting nowhere will do it. The interesting thing about the whole process is not that most people quit at this point but rather that some people don’t. I mean, “You can’t have what you wanted, so forget it.” is a pretty powerful disincentive for staying the course. So why hang around when that fact become all too clear?

I think those who don’t quit are the ones who get new dreams. Not “settling for less,” but rather discovering something you didn’t know about in the first place. Something you didn’t even know you wanted, because you didn’t know it existed. In which case your original dream has done its job. It got you started, pointed in the direction you needed to go, even if that place you’re searching for wasn’t where you thought it was. J.R.R. Tolkien made me want to be a writer, but I figured out pretty much immediately that I wasn’t going to be the next J.R.R. Tolkien. For one thing, he was pretty much sui generis and there wasn’t going to BE a next J.R.R. Tolkien. Any more than there was going to be—more of my heroes–another Ray Bradbury or Ursula Le Guin or Fritz Leiber. They’re them and you’re you. Once I got clear on that, then it became okay to figure out who I was and what I really wanted.

I’m still working on that and don’t expect to ever sort it out because the bar keeps moving, and for what little it may be worth, I wish as much for you. You work, you live,  and who you are and what you want to accomplish keeps moving, keeps evolving. That’s better than okay—it’s crucial. As time goes on you’ll know more. If you’re lucky, you’ll understand more. And what you think is important won’t stay the same, at least not entirely.

Getting started is what some dreams are for, but odds are they won’t be the ones that keep you going. And as for who you’re eventually going to be as a writer, that’s not really your problem. Anyone who cares to can sort that out after you’re gone. Maybe you’ll be someone else’s dream, for a while. Maybe not, but either way what matters is that you, when the choice was there, was able to grow and evolve along with those dreams and almost but never quite–a blessing on you–keep up.

Monday, Monday…Oh, Wait. It’s Tuesday

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The Blood Red ScarfIt actually is Tuesday. What the heck happened to Monday? I have a vague recollection of organizing network cables and something about a square peg in a triangular hole, but not much else. And a few words written. Maybe 500 or so. Not the blazing progress that makes me happy, but sort of necessary, when you’re at the stage where something important is about to happen in the story and you know what it is, but you’re not exactly sure why it’s important. That’s the frustating part–knowing its important, but not a clue why that is. And you do need to know. Instinct only goes so far. Working things out on paper makes for progress but not a high word count. If I’m lucky, that’ll come later.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Monday. I’m one of the few people I know who don’t mind Mondays. Mostly because I’m not enamored of the weekend, as so many other folk seem to be. And why should I be? Free time?  Weekends aren’t free time for me in any way, shape, or form.There’s family time. There’s housework and yardwork time. There’s All the Errands You Couldn’t Do During the Week time. My time?  Doesn’t exist. Not complaining, mind.  My priorities are where I’ve set them so I’ve no cause to fuss.  But there are certain realities that must be dealt with.  One is that I almost never get any writing done over the weekend.  Two is that I actually kind of like my day job. I don’t mind getting back to it. So Monday has no horror for me. Tuesday, otoh…

And it is Tuesday.

Milestones Redux

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YMDH-AT-BNI’ve talked a little bit about milestones before, those little markers that tell you that you’re making progress. Your first actual rejection (easy to get, but it shows that at least you finished something). Your first personal rejection. Your first actual sale. Your first…well, whatever. One of the beauties of the system is that you get to pick your own milestones. That’s the thing about milestones—by their very nature, they are personal.

The picture above represents one of mine, though at this point it might also qualify for a bucket list. So what is it? It is two copies of Yamada Monogatari: Demon Hunter on sale at our local B&N. Granted, I’ve been able to walk into a local bookseller and buy my own work for years, but only in the context of a magazine or anthology. This is the first time I can walking into a brick and mortar and buy a real live book that was entirely written by me. A reader living in New York or L.A. or Washington can walk into their B&N and find this. Books often succeed or fail for reasons other than the content, but that won’t matter. My name is on the cover, and whether it stands or falls, it’s on me. That’s a little scary and, imo, long f%$*#ing overdue. But it’s a milestone I wasn’t sure I was ever going to reach. Took me long enough, but I finally got there.

So where’s there, which is now here? The same place it always is—the place where the work is done on the way to the next milestone. Which, as I’ve said before, is not a destination. Do you ever pull onto the highway with thoughts of visiting the 334 mile marker, maybe camping out, take a few photos? I’m pretty sure you don’t. More like “I made it this far, only so many miles left to where I’m actually going.” Which is where?

Which is onward.

Passed 20,000 words last week on the new book. Which is not a milestone, but at the moment it is something much better–it is progress. I try not to confuse the two.

A Writer’s Gotta Do What a Writer’s Gotta Do

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MPF-Table-LeftThis was a working weekend, and I don’t mean mowing the yard, even though it does need it badly. I spent the past two days at the Mississippi Petrified Forest in Flora. For those who don’t know, this is a privately owned park at a spot where, about 300,000 years ago, some really large trees got swept down a river in some past deluge and deposited to turn into stone. There’s a stone and fossil museum, gift shop, and a nature trail that takes you past some of the logs that have eroded out of the loess cliffs over the centuries. If you’re at all interested in such things—I am—it makes for an interesting walk.

This weekend they were having their 50th Anniversary and celebrated with crawfish, live music, and…book signings? Yep. Part of the eclectic assemblage of all day events. Along with flint-knapping demos, geode cracking, and sessions with metaphysical and holistic healers. I was dubious of course. I always am, about pretty much anything. It’s my nature and annoys my wife no end. But she was participating and I was invited too and I thought, why not?

Okay, for those who have not done this before, a signing can take many forms, but usually it will involve you, in a more or less trafficked spot, behind a table piled with your books—a small pile or a large pile, depending—being friendly and talking to people, two things that everyone who knows me will concede are not my inclinations. It doesn’t even necessarily involve selling and signing books, though that’s the premise and the way it tends to work with the right venue and the right crowd. I knew going in that this was not my venue or crowd, but I didn’t mind. I figured that the worst that could happen was that I’d have a couple days to catch up on my reading, and at least I’d get some practice at self-promotion under less than ideal conditions.

Which just goes to tell you how little I know. Continue reading →

Lunch Break

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WeirdDetectivesI thought I’d ordered a pizza, but this will do. Brand spanking new author copies of Weird Detectives, edited by Paula Guran. It’s out, it’s live, it’s full of authors who aren’t me, aside from me.

“Paranormal investigators. Occult detectives. Ghost hunters. Monster fighters. Humans who unravel uncanny crimes and solve psychic puzzles; sleuths with supernatural powers of their own who provide services far beyond those normal gumshoes, shamuses, and Sherlocks can. When vampires, werewolves, and things that go “bump” in the night are part of your world, criminals can be as inhuman as the crimes they commit, and magic can seep into the mundane – those who solve the mysteries, bring justice, or even save the world itself, might utter spells, wield wands as well as firearms, or simply use their powers of deduction. Some of the best tales of the last decade from top authors of the 21st century’s most popular genres take you down mean streets and into strange crime scenes in this fantastic compilation.”

Order delivery. You know you want to. Weird Detectives.