Life As I Play It

For this blog, let’s pretend your imagination is an apartment—and within reside your characters.

When your characters and story are new, the apartment is empty, but you’re looking for things to fill it up with. So you hunt for inspiration (furniture).

Building a home takes time, dedication, and hard work. The same can be said of a good story and believable characters. You sit, you make the time, and you flesh out your characters. The more time and energy you invest, the better your world turns out. Soon, you have a couch, recliner, flat-screen TV, and anything else you need to make your story shine.

Your characters still have to pay rent, and they do so by telling you their story. When you give time to them, they give time to you. To me, this is how the writing process works.

Now, if you’re a bad landlord, and you’re not taking the time to keep the apartment up and running, well, tenants tend to move out. Don’t spend any time with your characters, they stop talking to you.

I’ve had Universal Warrior in my head since I was eight years old. I know these characters and their stories back and forth. I’m grateful for the success of the story, but to be honest, I had come to take it for granted. I’ve been living with these characters, and this ‘epic’ plot between good and evil for so long that I was able to think of Uprising’s plot within a couple of weeks. Suddenly bound by restrictions and deadlines, I was almost relieved when the site went down. I needed the break.

I didn’t think about Universal Warrior at all for about six weeks. I wrote the returning chapter without any planning or foresight—and man alive, am I dissatisfied with it. While I accomplished what I wanted (reintroducing the main character and his motivation) my execution was sloppier than last year’s Detroit Lions.

The lesson I learned is that if you value your characters and your story, regardless as to how you present them, then you have to invest time into them. I never should’ve taken so much time away from Universal Warrior. I could’ve kept things going with short stories. I could’ve planned out the—surprise. I could’ve done anything other than drop the project.

If I leave you with anything, invest time and energy into your creations whenever you can. They’ll reward you for it. Neglect them, and expect the same in return.

I first discovered this mindset while practicing. Bruce Lee spoke of it often; reaction without thought. Don’t think. Feel. It becomes instinct to respond to a certain situation in a certain way. I’ve been striving at this for years, only recently did I start to understand. A punch comes, you block. You don’t think about it, you just do it. Thought requires hesitation. Hesitation forfeits advantage.

This is why I learned to run (blindly) with my first instinct. Screw who gets hurt along the way. I’m right, you’re wrong, and at the end, when everything has been wrecked, you’ll see.

I wasn’t sure how to quantify it, but it was an unsettling peace, almost like the dark side of the force. I associated people with how they smelled. Once I had that scent, I could track them anywhere. it didn’t require thought to do this, only instincts. Raw emotions. Who needs logic?

I learned to communicate without words. I’ve always found that one learns much more by observing and listening than running off at the mouth. I still believe this.

Look at my eyes. Read my body language. What do you think is on my mind?

Pay attention to someone as they walk. Within seconds, you can tell how they feel about themselves—not just generally, but at that exact point in time. When they speak, do they make eye contact? Are they shifty in their movements? Or are they fluid, decisive, and confident?

Do they know how to handle themselves?

Before I left NYC, the guy who had shown me around (and waited on the embankment when that damn train went over me) had long maintained that he had no interest in martial arts, and he had no idea how to fight. It’s a good cover; sometimes, when it’s revealed that you can fight, people want to test you. They either want to prey on you, or use you to prey on others. So I don’t blame him for keeping his mouth shut.

But we were friends. And I knew.
He had already seen me fight, we had resolved the situation we had involved ourselves in. He knew what I could do, but more importantly, he knew I was trustworthy.

So randomly, before we leave the high-priced hotel, I threw a punch his way. Nothing serious; if it had connected, I would’ve gotten his attention, but not much else.

Instinctively, his hand shot out and grasped my wrist. The look in his eyes was priceless, as though he was at a holdup, and everyone had just realized his gun was empty.

We sparred fiercely for a moment, which became a great experience with a bona-fide Kung-Fu expert. We never said  a word the entire time. Words weren’t necessary.

Anyways…logic set in about a year ago. Everything got a little crazy then, trying to adapt to everything I knew versus everything I was learning. The real world is rough.

I notice that since I have gone straight, my reflexes have dulled. At first I thought it was age, as I’m still in pretty good shape.
Instead, I find myself asking why all the time. Why do I feel a need to injure this person? Why am I doing this? What purpose does this serve?

Is there another way?

My writing is something else, though. I’ve never tried at my writing, I just do it. It’s always been that way, even before I could fight.

In fact, now that I’m older, I have found that I create the characters and their backstories (with their input) and then they pretty much do their own thing. I find myself, after a few hours, with several thousand words written. Reviewing my work often leads me to raise an eyebrow and say, “Wow, didn’t see that coming.”

When I write, I’m not conscious of the time, other people, or even my environment. I feel as though some curse may be brought upon me if I dare to step away from the keyboard before finishing the story. I end up sprinting for the bathroom when I’m finished.

The same gift I had for fighting…it’s as though it’s passed into my writing. Or it’s always been there, and I’m just now harnessing it.

This is the life I strive for…to flow freely without conscious thought, to react in the most appropriate method for situation. When I write, I want the words to flow through me, without my trying to control them. If I feel a need to raise my hands, I want to have no doubts that I have exhausted all other options. And then, I want to react in the most humane way possible.

I want to feel. Everything.

I’ve spent enough time in the darkness, and I’m really enjoying the light.