Three Wise Men

three wise men

“Dude, are we there yet?”

“No, we not. Chill man, we’ll get there when we get there.”

“But we’ve been travelling all night. Why can’t we just pop into somewhere to overnight? It doesn’t even have to be fancy, just somewhere to get some damn shut-eye.”

“Fine! Fine. Fine… There isn’t a huge amount around, so how do you guys feel about crashing in that farm-looking building? It’s probably a barn or stable or something, so we can sleep on the hay or something?”

“Uh, yeah, dude, I could do that.”

“Yep, me too.”

“OK, but I see a light on in there? Well, it looks like a big stable, so I’m sure there will be place to for us as well. Just in case, guys, ready some of our gold and trade spices. If there are people in that stable then I am going to have to wing it and see if we can convince them to let us sleep there…”

“Sure thing, dude, we’re right behind–wait! If they ask where we are from, what do we say?”

“You just let me do the talking, OK? A little flattery and a little vagueness goes a long way. Besides, this part of the land is quite religious, so I’ll just pepper some of that into our tale.”

“OK, man, sounds good. Let’s do this, I’m exhausted.”

The Mythology of More

City at Night

“In the beginning, Man was quite simple. Man liked the warmth and light of the day and he feared the cold and dark of the night. Thus, there was a friendly god of the day and an evil god of the night. Man had to eat and drink, thus there was a god of the hunt and a god of drink. Man saw children being born and other men dying, so there was a god of life and a god of death. And Man was spread out all over the world with little to no contact amongst himself, thus there were many duplicates of these simply gods. In fact, there was pretty much one set of each of these simple gods per tribe and kingdom.”

The speaker pauses to take a sip of his whiskey before continuing.

“But then Man learned how to farm. The surplus food gave Him more time to think and more time to talk. That and the permanent proximity to other men bred complexities in the ways Man thought about the world around him. Mathematics, medicine, agriculture, finance and other schools of knowledge and learning began to emerge. Cities formed, civilization was born and Man began to grow into what He is today,” the speaker takes another sip of his whiskey before moving on, “and so the gods of men also became more sophisticated. At first, civilized man needed gods of the harvest, medicine and money. But as cities grew larger and resources more dispute, men began to kill men, and thus needed gods of war and victory. But, eventually, men had too many gods and began to make Gods of the gods, just to simplify things. In fact, some of these god-derivatives are still being worshiped by the more primitive minds of society today.”

Completely spellbound by every word the speaker said, the audience absentmindedly sniggered at this quip. They knew better. They were more sophisticated than that. The Speaker allowed them time to absorb this while he sipped his whiskey thoughtfully, looking at his surroundings like a king surveying his kingdom.

They were on the top-floor bar in a fancy hotel of glass, steel and shine whose massive, endless windows opened out over the sparkling, neon nightscape of the City far below. The speaker wore an immaculate pinstripe suit with a brilliant blue tie gleaming from a perfectly white shirt. His features were straight, tanned and cut–almost like a model in a magazine–with dark hair slicked back on his head.

“The ability of men to improve their tools has been the inherent driver of progress since pre-civilisation hunters discovered that you could use a pointy stick to kill things to eat. But, only in recent times, have men’s tools evolved to such a degree that they have in fact changed the way that men think as well,” at this point the speaker takes a sip and surveys the mixed bunch in front of him, there more in the audience than when he began speaking, “The Internet, for example, is a basic version of a collective hive-mind where disparate information, views and channels of communication can–in theory–connect the entire human race in a way that would have made Alexander the Great quite jealous and the Internet reminds everyone of everyone else’s excesses and surplus that they do not have. No one is as happy as their friends seem on Facebook. No one is as witty as everyone else sounds on Twitter. Television, Internet, mobile phones and gaming… All these things and more disintermediate men from their fears of the Dark, suspicion of the Moon and reliance on the Hunt or the Harvest. But, more importantly, all these evolving tools remind men constantly of their wants and desires. And, deep, deep, deep down inside, men are now freer than ever before to pursue the only thing that they have ever, ever wanted: more.”

An unseen siren softly penetrates the chic interior of the bar as a distant plane flies over the outside scenery, its lights blinking like a modern shooting star. Soft rap music plays in the background. The rapper is rhyming about his car collection and how many gold chains he has while the waiter in the bar is busy handing out more drinks to the enthralled audience.

“All these things that Man has done since the dawn of time has been to get more. He hunted to eat, but wanted to eat more. So He figured out agriculture and began to eat more. But then Man wanted nicer things and bigger houses and the ability to travel faster, wait shorter and sleep later… And cities and technology and travel and communication all grew better and better,” the speaker smiles in a nearly-predatory way while holding his audience in his commanding gaze, “All because Man wanted more. And, today, as the old gods disappear and Man moves forward into the future without the hindrance of an archaic belief system weighing Him down, His pure focus on improving His tools will allow Him to keep achieving His purest ambition: more.”

The speaker takes a final sip of his whiskey, draining the glass. His flicks his hand out with the glass to the barkeeper, who quickly refills it. Then the speaker’s smile widens and he stands up from his seat.

“Who wants some more…?” he asks to soft murmurs of agreement from his audience, “Who wants more money?” the audience agrees, a little louder than before with a couple of them clapping, “Who wants faster cars and nicer toys and fancier phones?” a soft buzz of agreement lifts from them to this, “Who wants more sex with more beautiful people more often?” a roar erupts to this with some of the men jumping to their feet, “Who wants more love and more fame and more violence and more power! Who wants everything!

The audience goes wild with primal screams and excitement mingling like a chorus with the background noise of the City. The lights in the bar seem brighter and the glasses seem shinier.

The speaker’s smile keeps widening across his slightly-predatory white teeth.

“Welcome,” he whispers to his near-rioting audience, “to the Mythology of More. Now, let’s get some more drinks and then go burn some temples down…”

The roars are so loud that they drown out the City and its noises far below.

The Smellgasm

The Smellgasm

“Look, he’s going to do it.”

“He is! He is!”

“Oh god! He’s doing it! He’s doing it!”

And exploding through his nose was a million scents, smells and fragrances.  Every single one of them was simultaneously exploding in his head. There was cut grass and metallic oil mixing with baking pies. There was cherry blossom, wet soap and coffee being made. There was roast beef, sweat and sex in the air. All these and a thousand more aromas of the city, some pleasant some otherwise. It was like looking at all the art in the world all at once in a single massive mosaic of smells being rammed up your fragile nose to crescendo simultaneously…

He could not help himself. The experience was too powerful. He put his head back and howled.

Suddenly a strong arm was pulling him back inside. The rush of smells faded the moment he was back inside the car. All the colors in his mind faded with them too, and his world was left in shades of gray again.

“No boy! No!” said his Master, “You can’t go barking while you hang out the window. In fact, I don’t think any of you should hang out the window. It’s just not safe, and, honestly, I cannot understand all your fascinations with doing so. Just sit quietly in the back there, we’re almost at the park.”

The was a panicked whimper in the back. Then silence.

“He’s messed it all up for rest of us,” one of the other dogs muttered, “He’s messed it all up.”

Show Me, Don’t Tell Me

Show me, don’t tell me” is the most common catchphrase for good writing.

But what does it mean?

Consider this: you could give a great story to a bad writer and it would end up being a terrible book, but even a mediocre story that is written by a great writer will be a good book.

So, style is key in making writing readable and ultimately arriving at being a good writer.

Generally speaking, showing the reader what is happening, but not telling them it is an important style point to remember.

For example, don’t tell the reader that the man is a violent murderer, but show them that his cold, predatory eyes surveyed the room like a wolf seeking out its prey. The readers can work out the rest.

In a nutshell, consider the following important style guidelines:

  • Use descriptions of characters, places and actions to indicate mood, descriptions and narrative. In other words, do not tell the reader that a room is haunted, but rather hint at it by describing the hairs on the back of a character’s neck rising and a sudden chilling running down their spine. This will give more colour to your writing, as oppose it consisting largely of “data dumps“.
  • Avoid lists. Following from the previous point, the biggest warning sign of telling readers things is a list dumping facts onto them. If you struggle with this, try writing shorter sentences with each one focussing on the characters and the story, rather than facts that you want to inject.
  • Avoid using adjectives where you can hint at them. E.g. Telling = The man is very sad; Showing = Tears streamed down the man’s face, contorted with deep emotion.
  • Watch this video and attempt the exercises at the end of it.

Good luck!

Little Tree, Little Tree

 

tree 2

Little Tree, listen closely and I will tell you of our great path.

In the beginning, there is the Falling. You will break away from your great mother to fall to our Great Mother. And, deep in Her warm, succulent embrace, you shall awaken.

The Growing will lift your limbs outwards and upwards. It will stretch your aching roots deep into Her womb as your leaves unfold far above. You will reach upwards to the Great Sky while the Light of Life will shine down upon you.

You will talk with the wind and drink deeply of the rain, but always remember that you are the Royalty of Light. Light shall bestow upon you Life, as your leaves and limbs grow stronger and stronger with each day.

Never forget that, Little Tree: we are the Royalty of Light. Ours is to drink the nectar of the Sky, passing on life to all those below and beneath us.  We shall breathe life into the Land, cool its multitude of lives in our shade while sheltering them in our leaves and branches and feeding them with our fruits.

Remember, Little Tree, we bring shade, not shadow to the Land. Shade, not shadow.

Along the way, Little Tree, there will be other little trees Falling from your limbs to their own Growing. They too shall play the role you play–as we all have played–in passing the Light of Life onto the rest of the world.

And, in the end, Little Tree, after many rains have come and gone, there will be the Cutting.

Do not fear the Cutting. This is part of the Cycle. Your body will pass as Light into another Life. Your Light shall become one with the Land, and the Cycle will continue because of your sacrifice.

Oh, Little Tree, never forget: we are the Royalty of Light, and all and everything depends upon us. Be strong, Little Tree, and bring shade, not shadow to the Land.