In Review: A Fool's Goddess - Chapter Seven

I can’t think of an interesting way to start this one, so I’ll just say:

“Howdy!”

I had a migraine earlier today, so my brain’s a little deep fried. I think I’ve already built up a history of not sticking to the ‘Review’ part of these ‘In Review’s, but be prepared for this one to come with an extra serving of bullshit. Apologies in advance, and my eternal thanks to those who endure these tirades.

Also, I finally learned how to use em dashes. Watch me slip those bastards in everywhere now.

And to get even more off-topic, I’d like to drop a bit of news—I just finished the first manuscript of my next novel. Clocking in at 105K words, it took me about three months to write. For comparison, it took me one and a half months to write A Fool’s Goddess, but I was also unemployed back then, so I think ninety days is pretty good for a full-time employee.

I considered writing up a separate post, but I don’t think I’m quite ready to talk about the novel. It’s the story I promised Boss I’d write, though it’s changed considerably over the last four years. And since I don’t plan to release it until at least mid-2020, it feels too soon to say much more.

So I guess I just wanted to brag a little for now. Please look forward to more information in the future.

Now, with that out of the way, let’s get into Varnicrast’s trademark tangents. Today, I’d like to discuss what I do to make my writing enjoyable, at least for me. Basically, let’s talk about fun.

This chapter opens up with some basic crap, but it contains a great example of how I love to put in subtle nods to things. In this instance, that paragraph about the bar’s name is actually another reference to one of my short stories, titled The One Who Watches Levi Belcher. It’s about a guy who has a second personality that only appears while he sleeps, and that persona is viciously in love with him. A weird tale I’ll hopefully clean up and share one day.

Now, considering I’m the only one who will understand that reference, why do it? The main answer is to keep myself happy and engaged in the story.

Back when I was but a baby weeaboo, happily reading Naruto, I remember seeing a blurb from its mangaka, Mr. Kishimoto Masashi, about his attempts to break into the world of manga. I might have the details wrong, but I believe he shared a tale about sharing a rough draft with a senior classmate.

That classmate gave him some kind criticism, but the part that really stuck to me was how they stated the rough draft felt like there was no joy behind it. I think they said something along the lines that it felt like Kishimoto did not transfer his happiness in creating it into the story, leading to a more hollow tale that was difficult to read.

Something about that stuck with me over the years, so I now I want to always be smiling as I write. I think I also recall a comedian once saying, “You can’t entertain anyone until you can entertain yourself”, so I do what I can to make myself laugh as I sit alone in my room, hammering away on a keyboard, once again with no plans on a Saturday night.

Then again, I actively avoid making plans for Saturday night, so really, that shouldn’t be a surprise.

Anyways, I suppose fun was kind of a theme for this Chapter. I wrote a lot of it with the intent of just showing a good time between buddies. They open up with jabbing one another while talking about recent events, have a few good jokes—my favorite being the stuff about the bracelet. Everyone knows you’re not actually bros unless you can be mistaken for a couple in public.

Total side note here: the town Chen talks about is based on a village you can find in the game, Octopath Traveler. I can’t recall why I may have included that reference—especially since I didn’t particularly love that game—but there it is.

The chapter also gets a bit dour in how it discusses war and the concept of violence through piety. I didn’t want things to get too heavy, but in hindsight, it got a little more somber than I’d planned. Perhaps that provides a nice dichotomy to the fun I wanted to present earlier, but still. At least the chapter ends on a nice, silly note.

…Weird, I mentioned I might get even more off-rails, but it’s like I actually discussed the chapter already. Maybe the secret to remaining focused is to melt my brain. Huh.

Well, let’s change that.

So I mentioned last time that I enjoy bar scenes. No real idea why. I don’t drink at all and I don’t go to bars, breweries, pubs, or the like with anything resembling frequency. I don’t hang around anyone who drinks, and frankly, I find the noise level of most such establishments to be completely repulsive.

However, I do have a theory as to where my appreciation for the bar comes from. My mother worked two jobs through most of my childhood, one of them being as a bartender. I must have been four or five at the time, but I used to wander around the bar she worked before it opened, messing with the pool tables and darting around stools, the usual stupid shit kids do. Her friend owned the bar, and I remember her telling my brother and I to run out the backdoor if the police showed up.

Basically, I think it was those decidedly illegal moments that made the bar a pleasant idea to me.

My parents divorced when I was six months old, and my father wasn’t exactly consistent with his weekend visitation. As such, it would be more accurate to say I was raised by a single mother—one who was saddled with debt and constantly working. I was too young to appreciate that at the time, mind you, but it also meant there was some unfortunate distance between me and my parental figures.

So those days when my mother couldn’t find a sitter for my brother and I, where she would then hide us in the backrooms of a bar while she worked, I think they still became fond memories for me. Strange, I know, but what isn’t weird in a child’s mind? I was near my mom and I was happy. Association kicked in, and bam, a reclusive asshole who won’t touch alcohol thinks bars are great.

And that’s my reason for putting a bar scene in my novel. Thank you very much for coming to my TED Talk.

In all seriousness, I do think they’re a great tool for writing as well. Bars are places where people loosen up and become honest through debauchery, making them an excellent way to show a character’s true colors without putting them in a tough situation. My new love, AI: The Somnium Files, has more than a few great scenes that take place in its bar, and the outstanding VA-11 HALL-A revolves entirely around such a place. And it both games, they are expertly used to expose new sides of the cast.

People who are looking for a sympathetic ear, jerks who drop their public faces, prudes who can finally show their sexuality—these are all good personalities that can come out through the power of intoxication. Put ‘em in a fun place with their friends and/or enemies and you’ve got a fine recipe for an enjoyable scene.

Hence why I plan to put one in each volume of a series I’ve got in the works. I just want to use those opportunities to share parts of my characters that might never appear when they’re sober.

I’m probably just overly romanticizing the idea, but hey, I think that’s part and parcel of being a writer. It’d be dull as fuck to only write about things I thought were average, wouldn’t it? At the very least, the bars in my head are cool places to relax and kick back, so while I may stay dry, I’d like my characters to enjoy a drink in my stead.

Okay, that’s enough for now. It seems I’m using these reviews more as a sort of diary at this point, but if that’s enjoyable to someone, I’ll keep doing it. I still like going over my old work and contemplating why I did certain things, so why not put it on the internet and let someone else get a kick out of it?

If it puts a smile on your face, at my expense or otherwise, then I think it’s worth doing.

Well, that’s all I’ve got. I’ll be spending the day with ol’ Steven when this gets posted, so I hope you’ll also spend your Sunday with those you treasure. And since he and I are unlikely to be drinking, consider enjoying a virgin cuba libre on our behalf.

Peace out, my dude.