Myth

Quicklinks excerpts and chapters

Part 1 – Echos. Excerpt 1

Part 1 – Echos. Excerpt 2

Part 1 – Echos. Excerpt 3a

Part 1 – Echos. Excerpt 3b (end of chapter 1)

Story information

Myth is a long-time project for me. It has taken me sixteen years to develop the characters, worlds, species, and all aspects of the story to a refined enough state that I feel would be a thrill to read.

As I am only twenty-four years old, you must take into consideration that sixteen years is over two-thirds of my life.

To briefly explain the premise of the first book:

A powerful but inexperienced young priestess named Claire is sentenced to death for a crime she never could have committed. The only light of reprieve she’s shown is to leave her home and travel across the dangerous continental forests to take up the mantle of advisor in a new land. She is accompanied by a group of elite mercenaries, hired by her world’s newcomers, the Aelphi, and hunted by their most feared enemy, a nightmarish young man known as the Prince of Dust. Claire must find the strength to fight for herself and her people before they fall to the darkness of the greater evil.

The story of the creation of Myth is a long, tedious, arduous yarn that I doubt anyone would ever want to read. So here it is!

It was at eight years of age that I was introduced to the world of the internet. I found it intriguing, both knowledge and insanity were available at the click of a button. But this was all the way back in 1995, the world-wide-web wasn’t such an interesting place, no matter how much tireless effort Mr. Gore put into it. I eventually found myself drawn to the perks of running with AOL, the epic and vastly complex winding corridors of virtual clubs they liked to call chat rooms.

I began on subjects in which I was interested; books, movies, the movement that would come to be known as trolling; and then proceeded to slowly explore new territory. I was a budding artist even then and so opened the door to the ‘Arts and Entertainment’ category. There, much to my ignorant amazement, I found something new, something people called Role Playing.

I was a sheltered child living in middle-america corn-and-cow town Ohio. I had been through numerous surgeries in my young life and hadn’t had much experience in the world, so this concept of people (adults, no less) creating characters and acting in the roles (and interacting with OTHER adults) for no foreseeable personal gain was completely alien to me. I knew I enjoyed writing, I knew I enjoyed acting, I knew I liked to interact with others but this strange combination struck fear into the very structure of my soul. Or it just gave me itchy fingers and a slight anxiety over making a fool of myself, I’m not sure, I tend to exaggerate.

The room I chose was, to me at least, famous. It was called the Red Dragon Inn and was exasperatingly exclusive. I entered, after thirteen or fourteen tries. I watched these people post in the chat and could only imagine they were some sort of hyperactive english-speaking monkey creatures with three hundred fingers. They were rapidly flinging actions and dialogue at each other with such force and precision that it took me a few weeks of observing before I dared to throw my hat into the ring.

When I did, I developed a single character named Orin. He was a vampire/dragon bastardization that could only be shown in light of day to this batch of equally hybridized freaky things. He would never simply ‘walk’ into this imaginary setting. He would ‘appear’ in the rafters of the inn, shrouded in darkness and wait with his slit eyes. He was constantly waiting, that was his thing. My eight year old mind thought that would be poetic somehow so I developed a reason for him to wait. He was there to find his enemy, a man of great power who would show himself to Orin as a threat to the others in the inn.

Yeah, I know… But wait, it gets better.

Through my adventures in the inn, I developed close bonds with dozens of other players. When I say ‘close’ and ‘bonds’, I feel compelled by the nagging remnant of human conscience that I have left to let you know that the reality was far more malicious. A sophomoric child among multitudes of other horribly self-defensive, Napoleonic adults is a bad mix. I said things, they said things, it escalated. These ‘friends’ of mine ran the gamut of character type. Some were vampires, some were sorcerers and warlocks, others had the unfortunate and hair-ball causing issue of being Anthros (what the younger crowd would call ‘furries’) but the largest and most disagreeable demographic had to be the hardcore sci-fi troupe. The leaders of these malevolent people, in so much as they seemed to be the most respected, were the light-saber wielding, force using psychos calling themselves Jedi.

OH the battles we had.

Through the next three years, I spent my free-time developing elements of my Orin character. I researched biomechanics, biology, metallurgy, physics and other subjects that would probably get my cardboard cutout shot in a scene in Men In Black. I brought about a total physical change and gave him abilities that I had never seen before.

I came back strong with this totally renovated character. I renamed him as Nikko Valencia and wrote an epically long saga of a three page back story (I was eleven, that’s long to an eleven year old).

My return was marked by a change in the Red Dragon Inn. The Jedi began to disappear. Logistically, one cannot say with great pride or perfect confidence that they protected an imaginary place from people who are freely able to access the virtual entrance to said place. I can, however, say that a feisty eleven year old annoyed the holy hell out of the significantly older, pimply faced geeks by arguing the validity (both the real scientific possibility and the in-game rule inclusion status) of the powers and weapons he had brought to bear on their weak and off guard characters. (The joke was on me, just a short while later I joined their pock-marked ranks in social outcast-land.)

This was a prolific time in the creation of Myth. It was the foundation with which I created the basis to an expansive story that will span three worlds and eight books. From middle school until college, I was in a constant state of contact with my muses. My friends would notice my eyes drift off and begin to move rapidly as if I was dreaming with them open and revealed to the world.

I gained real friends from my journeys in the Red Dragon Inn. Most notably a young woman (screen)named Serena who’s contribution to the story resulted in the main female character, Claire. (Her real name may be revealed among the dedication section at the beginning of each book, if she’s willing to permit it, because without her input, I cannot say if the story would be quite as compelling.)

As I grew older, I realized I had far more work cut out for me. The premises I developed in the role play were great, but the visceral worlds in which they had been set was tired. So many people replaying so many archetypal battles wouldn’t make for a great read. I had to change the world which gave me so much. I had to leave behind what others had grown and plant my own seeds. I took what I could, requesting and receiving permission from my friends who could very well have written their own book series many times over. I incorporated everything that could fit and molded everything else into altered but more coherent versions. Whatever I took, I made absolutely sure to make my own. I also made sure that my own contributions vastly outnumbered those of my creative allies.

I made Claire softer and less confident than what she had been when her name had been Serena.

I deepened and darkened Nikko into a monstrous force of nature far less forgiving than he had been (even to the Jedi scum of the Red Dragon Inn).

And I created a counterpart, a new character to balance the mix, a mysterious and proud captain known only by the name of a legendary hero, Andial.

This is the abridged version of where Myth is right now.

Trust that you’re not getting even a fraction of the story… There’s nothing typical about Myth. I know that’s said about every story, those words tense in every writer’s mouth, ready to spring forward and pounce on the reader’s interest. The interest, for the sake of its own survival, has learned to recognize this unique beast and has toughened its skin and doubled it’s guard. I really must urge you to simply read the excerpts I have (I am uploading more as soon as I am happy with the work) and make your decisions once you have a little more food for thought. I’m not trying to attack your interest. I don’t need to. I do, however, need to gain its trust.

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