The Hard Part of Art

I am an artist. My art is writing fiction and illustrating the covers. I create the title fonts.

Making art is always work, easy or not. When it is easy, I write or render a lot rather quickly. When it is hard, I struggle. I can have an idea either way. Sometimes having a clear idea is the problem: I cannot match what I envision.

Like every artist, I am never satisfied with the product. There is always something I wish I could do better. I am only finished when I realize if I do not stop I shall ruin what I already have. Even then, I fret.

My thematic specialty is uninteresting to most people. I never lose interest but I do not write and render to keep my work to myself. I need to incorporate universal themes. I must minimize my core fancy or my work shall prove boring.

I like my work better because of what I do to make it interesting to other people. I share an interest in those universal themes. They complement my specialty, giving it depth it would otherwise lack.

Themes and ideas are never enough, however. Turning them into words requires economy and eloquence. Rendering them as images is a matter of shapes and colors. Finding the words or drawing the shapes and choosing the right colors is the artistry of the art. The themes and ideas are merely context.

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Without the Boring

What if speech was never confounded into languages? What if contagions were unheard of? What if weapons of mass destruction were obsolete?

People less imaginative than myself tell me that the world would be boring without languages. It would be overpopulated without disease. To render weapons of mass destruction obsolete can only mean to replace them with even more destructive weapons.

I can only imagine what the world would be like if my questions were answered. It is already boring with its countless languages. Take a marker and put a dot on a globe and that shows me how “overpopulated” the world is. Weapons of mass destruction are not obsolete if replaced with weapons of mass destruction… and destroying everything is as bad as they can get, no matter what.

We have the world the way it already is. The unimaginative already have languages, contagions and weapons of mass destruction. What comes of these needlessly needful things? We need not imagine. We can see for ourselves.

I write fiction. I answer the questions I asked. The worlds I imagine are not boring. On the contrary: They thrive quite well without gibberish, sickness and apocalypse. I do mean as settings for stories. Unlike in our real world, the problems are fun.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/477393

Storytelling in all Sincerity

I write fiction.

What distinguishes my work from all others is not my ideas. I am inspired by things that already exist, as fiction or otherwise.

Creating a new language does not make ideas new. It simply confuses what would otherwise be intelligible. A style of writing is gibberish regardless of the language if it is truly unique. Weirdness is ridiculous if not somewhat grounded in reality.

As a writer, I avoid creating new words. If I must, I strive to make them up by combining real words or by modifying real words using prefixes and suffixes already in the language.

I am uninterested in subverting conventions. I have never been limited by the genres and archetypes as they already are. The old ideas are easily made new by simply bothering to give them thoughtful context.

My SINCERITY is what distinguishes my work. The heroes are not to glorify what I believe in. The villains are not to shame what I despise. The stories are not to convince anyone of anything. The dialog is not me speaking through characters.

It is unlikely you understand what I mean. You assume writers are sincere when they truly believe what they write. Take heed: their beliefs are what suit them. Their thoughts are used to shape how they feel more to their liking. The cynical and nihilistic are not exceptions. On the contrary: They are the epitome of insincerity.

https://www.amazon.com/stores/Shawn-OToole/author/B07C28S75Z?ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true

Orwellian Sincerity

The novel 1984 is dystopian science fiction. The setting is a world like our own but different. The countries are familiar but different. The empires fight each other through limited actions in disputed territories.

My Sorcerer books are entirely like 1984 in these regards. They are very distinct, however. The social commentary is entirely the point of 1984. It is supplementary in the Sorcerer books.

George Orwell wrote 1984 to make a point about the insignificance of individuals. The world is ruled by impersonal forces. Even the supposed villain, Big Brother is but a face for an actually faceless government.

I wrote the Sorcerer books to make a point about the significance of individuals. The world is ruled by masterminds. They control the otherwise impersonal forces. The heroes are the individuals not in charge yet they still influence events… and sometimes decide the very outcome.

George Orwell created characters to humanize his story about history and politics. I crafted history and politics to provide a setting for characters.

George Orwell looked to systems to make life worthwhile. He was disappointed. I look to individuals. I found one, and that is what an individual is… and I was satisfied. Yes, the world is horrible. Its every system falls short… but so what? Sincerity is real. It cannot be corrupted. It thrives, of itself, whether the world languishes or not.

Then and Now

My interest in the foot soldiers of villainy is since my childhood in the 1970s. I grew up the only one interested. No one even knew there was such a fancy. People were confused when I bothered to explain it to them.

The Imperial Stormtroopers of Star Wars were and are my favorite fictional characters. People were surprised when I preferred Stormtrooper merchandise over anything Darth Vader or Boba Fett. They would argue with me, trying to convince me that my preference was silly.

My interest in the foot soldiers being female is since November 18, 1978. It was inspired by the cartoon Fangface: Begone, You Amazon. My mother explained that the original Amazons were characters in Greek Mythology. I read the myths. My favorite is when Heracles slaughtered naked Amazons as they swarmed him from over the sides of his ship. He covered the deck with their bodies.

It is now the 2020s. I never lost interest in my childhood fancy. It is the thematic specialty of my art and fiction. I am still the only one. My work languishes accordingly… for now.

https://www.amazon.com/stores/Shawn-OToole/author/B07C28S75Z?ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true

Making Changes but Not Really

I read and watch fiction and non-fiction alike. There are things I would do differently, both real and imagined. There are things I would not change but I think an alternate version would be interesting.

Languages, disease and weapons of mass destruction are uninteresting. They ruin what would otherwise be history as a story better than any written as fiction.

I love “space opera” science fiction… but dislike the need for life support systems. The characters are bound to ships or suits, no matter their prowess.

I wonder what would have happened had the Confederacy won the American Civil War or the Axis won World War 2. I am glad they were defeated… but am curious. A Confederate victory could mean the Confederacy is an Axis power in the next century… and the very idea is fascinating.

I write fiction. I am generally uninterested in writing non-fiction because writing non-fiction is simply plagiarizing God. He has good ideas but squanders them, so why would I copy him? I use his ideas but in accordance with my own preferences. I do mean as a storyteller, to be clear. I am uninterested in changing his Creation. As a writer, I respect other writers to write what they want how they want it.

https://www.amazon.com/stores/Shawn-OToole/author/B07C28S75Z?ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true

Uninspired

I write books. I illustrate the covers and create the title fonts. If my books are ever professionally published, it is very unlikely my covers and fonts shall be used. I may be required to change the text as well. The fiction shall no longer be my private property. It shall belong to whoever buys it from me. My art shall be reduced to merchandise.

I love my creative freedom. It does not pay the bills, however. It does not provide professional marketing. Both the writer and the fiction languish unless I sell my work.

When I was young, the very idea of selling out was unthinkable. I would sell, but on my own terms. Not anymore.

I am getting old. I already have injuries. My unskilled jobs require physical prowess I am losing. I would sell my work if given the opportunity. It would sadden me to have it published without my covers. I would hate changing the stories at someone else’s whim. I would have peace of mind, however. I would have what I need and could live comfortably.

I am learning to not care. I am too tired to bother anymore.

I write and render as best I can, always. That shall never change. It is proving not to matter, though. After all these long years and after all that hard work, I am languishing. My work languishes in obscurity and seems doomed to fade away.

I disbelieve. My ignorance was my only bliss… but now it is simply confusion. I was proven wrong. The idealism in my fiction is fiction indeed. I hope, for that is all I can do, that I shall be lucky enough to eventually have the opportunity to sell out. I shall do so given the chance, but not for fame and fortune of themselves. It is to make myself comfortable as I await the end.

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