With the release of Book One just a few weeks out, I thought it was about time to provide another excerpt from the story. This one showcases a unique race that I created (no Dwarves, Elves or Hobbits in this) called the Bachus, who feature prominently in the second half of Echoes of Light.

Before that, here’s a descriptive snippet about their appearance, in particular, that of two Bachus who become major characters at a certain point in the book – “[…] they looked like giant badgers that were slightly smaller than humans, with long, bushy tails that ended in a collection of thick quills. They stood with somewhat of a hunch, making themselves appear shorter than they already were. Their bodies were stout, particularly plump beneath the waist . One of the creatures was covered in red fur like the color of cherries. A pair of white streaks raced from its face, across its back and onto its tail. The other creature wore chocolate-colored fur, and its white stripes were wider, nearly taking up half of its back.”

This ‘excerpt’ is actually an entire chapter, and you get a good glimpse into the life and culture of the Bachus through it –

           When Alamor and his company burst into the Bachu Caverns, they were struck by a cloud of heat that seemed to slam into them instantaneously. Roaring fires burned within a series of forges throughout the vast chamber, their orange flames illuminating every inch of the sweltering space. Among them were a number of enormous machines constructed out of staunch and impervious metals. Each one produced a cacophony of sounds as their gears, levers and turbines all worked ceaselessly either to augment the forges’ fires or to precisely craft the minerals and gems which had been fed to their mechanical forms.

            Some two-dozen Bachus labored alongside the fires and machines, most so enveloped in their work that they did not even notice Hinton, Pauma and their guests abruptly storm into the caverns. The only ones which paid any attention to them were a pair of male Bachus who had been assigned to stand guard at that particular entrance to their caverns, and had allowed the party to enter from the tunnels beyond.

            After Hinton had caught his breath, he stood as erect as his hunched body would let him. The light of the fires around them showed every space of his proud expression. “This may not be the entrance I had planned on bringin’ you lot through, but welcome to the grand Bachu Caverns, nonetheless!” he announced to this companions.

            Pauma did not display the same enthusiasm as her husband did. “I apologize for the heat we dropped all o’ you into,” the Bachu maiden quickly added, her tongue dangling past her lips. “I was expecting for my husband here to take us to the proper entrance, not straight into the blasted forges.”

            Normally Hinton would have crafted some kind of rebuttal to his wife’s complaints, but this time he had to agree with her. “Yes, I suppose this whole trek could have gone better…but at least we got here all in one piece, just like I said we would!” He glanced at the Bachus who were on guard at the stone doors they entered through. “Do me a favor, will ya, pals? Send a word out to Boss Blairo that I have some guests for him to meet. In the meantime, I’m goin’ to show them about the caverns!”

            With an encouraging wave of his paw, Hinton started ahead, and the group followed. As they navigated about the burning forges and grinding machines, Hinton indicated several holes in the ceiling, which he referred to as sky vents. He explained that the openings ran all the way up to the surface of Sleekleaf Forest, providing the Bachus both with passages to direct the smoke and fumes out of the caverns, as well as a view of the sky to tell them what time of day it was, or what the weather was like.

            They soon left the forges and began down a series of wide corridors and spacious halls, each one brightly lit by glass lanterns that dropped from the ceiling upon a long chain. Unlike the rough, dusty tunnels the group traveled through before, most of the Bachu Caverns were made up of smooth, polished rock that had been carved out of the earth by the most skilled Bachu architects.

            The only areas that they never renovated were what Hinton referred to as the excavation sites, where the Bachus mined for precious materials. They passed through one along the way, and Alamor and the others were amazed at its size. It was a massive cavern with a single walkway that ran from one end of the giant chamber to the other. On both sides of the walkway, the ground fell away into zones that had been hacked at by the Bachu miners for untold years. The companions from Geldiar could not even count the number of Bachus they saw working diligently below, carving away at the dirt and rock with shovels, pickaxes, or even their bare paws.

            They strode through several other cleaner—but equally bustling—chambers. In some, Bachus stood before tables entirely covered with sediment and ores harvested from the earth. Hinton called these the inspection halls, where the Bachus cleaned, documented and even tested the various materials that were mined from the excavation sites.

            As Alamor and his company followed behind Hinton and his wife, the young man noticed a trend in the Bachus. No matter how many he saw, their fur only came in shades of red and brown, although they all had the same white patches and stripes that Hinton and Pauma wore. The tones of their fur were all across the spectrum as far as intensity went; the red Bachus came in cherry, maroon, burgundy, crimson, while the brown Bachus featured ecru, chestnut, sepia, and coffee, among many others.

“Hinton, why is every Bachu either red or brown?” Alamor eventually asked, his curiosity too great to ignore as they continued along.

            Hinton chuckled in response. “Just the way nature made us, lad!” he answered, jolly as ever. “Every male Bachu’s fur turns into some shade of red, while the gals get brown pelts.”

            “Is it ever different?” Raissa chimed in, clearly intrigued by the subject, as well.

            “Depends on watcha mean,” Hinton began. “If you’re askin’ if Bachus ever get some funny lookin’ fur like blue, green or purple, then the answer’s no; at least, not without someone doin’ one bang-up job paintin’ a poor fellow. But there are some lucky fellas who are born with bright, bright red fur; these Bachus always turn out to be the biggest, strongest and bravest of them all. That’s why we Bachus appoint them as our leaders, just like we did with Boss Blairo.”

             Joth now decided to insert himself into the conversation. “Is ‘Boss Blairo’ the one you told those other Bachus that you were going to introduce us to?”

            There was a faint hint of resentment in Pauma’s eyes, but Hinton remained cheerful in response. “Yep, he’s the one! Biggest Bachu you ever seen, and the toughest fella I’ve ever known. It’s the reason why he’s in charge o’ all o’ us down here! He’ll know exactly how to help all o’ you out in gettin’ to that villa, he’ll certainly do the be—”

            “HINTOOOONNN!!” a booming holler flew throughout the caverns, interrupting Hinton as the hair across his back went stiff.

            “Except I don’t think he’s happy to see me right now…” Hinton whimpered, shrinking to the floor.

            Pauma rolled her eyes. “When has he ever been happy to see you, Paka?” she murmured, more so to herself than to Hinton.

            All of the Bachus at the end of the hallway dispersed, scampering out of the way as the feared and respected Boss Blairo stomped to meet Hinton and his guests. Just as Hinton had described, Boss Blairo was a particularly large and bulky Bachu. His quills, paws and head were twice the size of that on any normal Bachu, and he was as tall as a human when he stood straight. His fur was a bright red shade, almost vermilion. He was an intimidating sight no matter what mood was he was in, but he commanded an especially heavy presence with the irate expression flaring upon his face, and the maddened march he made through the corridor to confront Hinton.

            “What in stone and soil’s name did you do now, Hinton!?” the Bachu leader bellowed, aiming a foul glare Hinton’s way. “For a few days there, I thought we might o’ been finally rid o’ your troubles and nonsense, but now I just find out that you storm into the forges with a pack of Narogas nippin’ at your quills!?”

            Hinton cringed the whole time while Boss Blairo berated him, while Pauma cowered behind him. “F-forgive the mishap, B-Boss Blairo, but I accidentally might o’ taken a wrong tunnel or two along the way while I showed these poor folk here to the caverns.”

            “There’s no ‘might have’ in that blunder o’ yours!” Boss Blairo exclaimed. The big Bachu then glanced at Alamor and the others. He scanned their group with a suspicious look in his eyes. “And that’s another thing; who exactly are these fellas you decided to drag in here uninvited?” he demanded.

            Hinton looked over at the party from Geldiar, specifically Raissa. No longer staring into Boss Blairo’s furious gaze, some of Hinton’s eagerness returned to his voice. “The young lass there is Princess Raissa Hokara, and the rest o’ the lot are her companions.”

            Boss Blairo did not show much of a reaction, but his sudden silence suggested that he did not expect the answer he received. He looked over to Raissa with a far more calm expression than he wore before. “Certainly not who I thought I’d see down here in my time,” he conceded. “Welcome to the Bachu Caverns, your Highness. I apologize that you could not arrive here in a more appropriate manner.”

           There was an uneasy tension in the air when Boss Blairo spoke. Although his words were respectful enough, they carried no enthusiasm. His greeting seemed perfunctory rather than out of admiration and courtesy. He did not so much as bow or genuflect to Raissa, only acknowledging her with a nod. The princess of Tordale noticed his indifferent mood much as anyone, and merely replied with a taciturn nod of her own.

            “What exactly brings you and your friends all the way out here in the kingdom?” Boss Blairo next asked, still showing little enthusiasm at their presence.

            Raissa and Tiroku shared a fleeting glance before the wise Spiritcaster answered for her. He recounted all of the events which had befallen their group; when Raissa’s troupe was attacked on their way to Tirth, the attack on Tordalia, their flight to Geldiar, their trek through Sleekleaf Forest, and their encounter with the Strife Wings and their subsequent meeting with Hinton and Pauma. He also explained the purpose behind their journey—how they needed to find the Radiant Gems, and how Baldaron would conquer all of Tordale if he was not stopped.

            By the end of it, Boss Blairo nodded gravely, not appearing to be very surprised by what Tiroku told him. “Indeed, there’s been a lot o’ trouble across the land these days,” the Bachu leader confirmed. “We heard some o’ the horrors that sprang up recently, and we’ve seen more than enough suspicious fellas and ugly monsters about in Sleekleaf; makes me plenty content to keep ourselves down here in the caverns where we’re safe.”

            A stern look in Tiroku’s eyes suggested that he did not agree with Boss Blairo. “You will not be safe in these caverns for very long if Baldaron and his forces are not dealt with. His reach will eventually stretch across all of Tordale; long enough that it will ensnare you even deep below the earth here. That is why we need to find the Radiant Gems as soon as possible. With the Bachus’ help, we could find one of the gems very quickly, and muster some hope to save Tordale.”

            Boss Blairo matched Tiroku’s hard gaze. “And as long as I’m in charge down here, I won’t allow for any Bachu to risk our hides in joinin’ this scheme you’ve got goin’.”

            Hinton was dismayed by the firm declaration. “Bu-but Boss Blairo, you can’t just send them back out into the tunnels on their own!” he appealed.

            Boss Blairo let his withering scowl fall upon Hinton once more. “Silence, Paka!” he shouted, and turned back to the party from Geldiar. “I don’t know what this fool o’ a Bachu or his wife may have told you, but we’re perfectly satisfied with enjoyin’ ourselves in our own caverns and staying out o’ everyone else’s business in the rest of the kingdom from now on.”

            Rawner stepped forward, his face almost red with frustration. “Didn’t you hear a word Tiroku said to you!?” the big man exclaimed. “You can hide here in the dirt for as long as you like, but sooner or later, you’re gonna be found by Baldaron’s army; and you can bet they won’t be anywhere near as nice as us!”

            Hinton, Pauma and every other Bachu nearby were stunned by Rawner’s outburst. No one every spoke to Boss Blairo that way, much less challenged anything the Bachu leader ever decided on.

            “Careful with what you spit out o’ that big head o’ yours, fella; you lot may have plenty o’ shiny weapons and what in your possession, but there’s a whole load more of us Bachus than there are of you,” Boss Blairo warned, hardly intimidated by Rawner. “And speaking o’ us Bachus, we seem to be doin’ quite a bit better than everyone else in Tordale. While the rest of your kind are in trouble with the monsters roamin’ the land, not one Bachu here has had to ever deal with ‘em, so I see no reason to worry that they’ll ever find us like you say.”

            Tiroku’s fierce eyes darkened, seemingly from far more than just rising frustration with Boss Blairo’s stubbornness. “You have made the Bachus cower here in the caverns long before these recent events,” the old Spiritcaster said, his words especially sharp now. “Is this why you refused to answer our emissaries when we requested your kind to attend the summit at Tordale Castle weeks ago? You merely want to lock yourselves in your caverns and pretend that there is no other world beyond your stone doors?” 

            Most persons wouldn’t have been able to stare directly into Tiroku’s smoldering gaze or listen to his powerful words without flinching, but Boss Blairo remained as confident and as stubborn as ever. “It’s like I said before, we Bachus seem to be doin’ a lot better than the rest o’ you on the surface, so I’d think twice before questioning how good any o’ my decisions are, old man. Now I don’t mind if all you fellas want to hang around in our caverns for a while or turn around this instant and head back into the tunnels, but by my orders as boss down here, not one Bachu will be allowed to help you find that stone or whatever it is you’re after.”

            Despite being berated by Boss Blairo every time he spoke before, Hinton found the courage to appeal his companion’s purpose. “B-Boss Blairo, even if we Bachus don’t join in any fights or leave Sleekleaf, couldn’t we at least guide these good folk to the Lindross villa?”

            Boss Blairo didn’t require a moment’s thought. “Not a chance,” he snapped incisively, determined to end the matter by his own accord. He shot his surly gaze back at Tiroku and the others. “Besides, I doubt you lot really want to go to that old villa, regardless of whatever it is you seek. There’s more than just ghosts and magical spirits in there now; a dangerous creature called the Flouri recently made itself comfortable in the villa. It used to fly around in these parts of Sleekleaf for years, but it seems like it got tired of livin’ in the woods and decided to call the villa its home. Myself and some o’ our scouts spotted it a week or two back; a big, ugly monster if I’ve ever seen one myself, just as large and as nasty as those furry things that are always with the armored troops.”

            “We will face it, regardless,” Tiroku declared confidently. “If we do not, all of Tordale— including you Bachus—will fall to a far more vile, more powerful monster.”

            Boss Blairo was no more swayed by Tiroku’s warning than he ever was before. “Suit yourself, fella, go ahead and walk right up to the Flouri if it means getting that precious rock you want so much, but you won’t be getting any help from us; it’s bad enough that Hinton and his wife here showed you lot to our caverns in the first place, and I sure as anything’ won’t let a single Bachu risk being spotted by these enemies with you and giving away our location.” Boss Blairo looked up and let his gaze travel over all of the Bachus in the hallway who still watched and listened. His voice rumbled as he spoke. “And if any Bachu is foolish enough to disobey that order, I’ll make sure that they’re locked out o’ the caverns for good, never to be let back inside!”

            He cast one final glare at Hinton and Pauma, a silent threat to not assist the companions from Geldiar any more than they already had. Boss Blairo stomped back in the direction where he came from, never even looking back at Tiroku and the others.

            They watched him go, uncertainty etched across each of their faces.

Fear not, I’m still alive and kickin!

Like always, things got hectic in a hurry for me at the tail end of the year between school and working retail, never mind finding time to celebrate the holidays with family and friends. Editing and revision is just about done with Book One, Echoes of Light, and things are finishing up with the cover for it. I’ll probably have to delay the release of it to March, but I guarantee that the light is at the end of the tunnel.

Book Two, meanwhile, is finally starting to come along. I’m quite a bit behind from my original plans, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you just need to go with the flow when it comes to your writing. A novel is finished when its finished; not according to some rigid schedule.

I’d say I’m about halfway done with it. I recently wrote what was perhaps my favorite chapter so far in the trilogy, which included a giant monster battle like something out of a Godzilla movie!

I’ve also stayed busy with my work for Sabres Hockey Central. It’s been a tough season for the team so far, but I’ve still been able to come up with what have been among my best feature editorials in all my time covering hockey. I have three new pieces listed in the “Articles” section (which needs a bit of a revamp), which can also be found below –

http://sabreshockeycentral.com/2013/09/14/waiting-on-a-leader/

http://sabreshockeycentral.com/2013/10/25/the-nhl-the-national-hypocrisy-league/

http://sabreshockeycentral.com/2014/01/01/our-goalie/

I’m going to try to be a lot more active with this from here on out now, especially with the impending release of Echoes of Light. I’m hoping to rework the layout and design of the blog, and definitely start posting more regularly. More excerpts from my books are on the way, and once Echoes of Light is out, I’d love to keep readers updated on the progress of the series, as well as do occasional write-ups on the world that the stories take place in.

Not much longer until then!

October is a month when I do a lot of thinking. I take a long look at my life, my accomplishments, my goals, and most of all, the people that I have in my life. I pay a great deal of thought to the friends I have, because two Octobers ago, I lost a friend who I had known since I was just seven years old.

It’s still a sobering memory to this day. I can vividly recall how I felt and went through my head when I first learned that he had passed away. I also remember how my life immediately began to change as soon as I learned that horrible news.

I was stunned, almost in disbelief. A 21-year-old kid, someone I had grown up with, no different from myself, gone from this world so quickly; it was a difficult subject for me to wrap my mind around right away. The gravity of the situation didn’t hit me at first, at least the way that it eventually would later on.

When the shock finally began to dissipate, I found myself entering the biggest turning point of my life thus far.

You never like to say that something good could possibly come out of a tragedy like that, but it did, at least for me. At the time, I had been in a falling out with another friend, one of my closest. We were going on months without speaking to one another, all over stupid, petty reasons, many of which I was at fault for.

I eventually made an effort to resolve things between her and I. We came back together, and since then, I’ve had some of the greatest memories with her; memories I probably would never have experienced if I hadn’t received a serious wake up call.

With one friend’s passing, I understood that I needed to cherish my friendships more, and that I never wanted to lose one ever again.

That’s when the thinking started. I began to look back on my life and all of the bonds I had formed. I haven’t stopped thinking since.

To this day, I ponder the other friendships I haven’t been lucky enough to rekindle or repair. None of these friends passed away; we simply went our separate ways in time, whether it was on amicable terms, or, regrettably, bitter terms.

For some, I have no one to blame but myself. Those hurt the most, because I realize that I could probably still have those friends in my life right now if I hadn’t taken them for granted. If I had appreciated them just a little bit more—showed them that appreciation—they could still close companions of mine, and not just memories.

I don’t plan on making that mistake anymore. I understand that certain things are beyond my control, and that most likely, myself and many of my friends will go down different roads at some point. But if I ever do lose one for good, it won’t be because of a mistake made by me.

And luckily, I have a lot of amazing pals still in my life; it’s a massive group, to say the least. I got a taste of just how blessed I am over the summer, when I had 35 people come out to celebrate my birthday, and even more than that took time of their day to send me some kind of birthday wish.

Those are the same friends who always there for me, not just when it’s most convenient for them. They’re ready to drop anything at a moment’s notice if I’m down in the dumps and need cheering up. They’re also the ones that have given me tremendous support for all my endeavors, namely my writing aspirations, which they all seem to understand is the most important goal in my life.

It’s things like this that make me love each and every one of them from the bottom of my heart. They’re the reason why my life is so great.

But still, I think of the friends I’ve lost, too, and I never forget the joy they once brought me.

I’m nearly done with writing my first novel, the first of a three book series. If all goes right, I’ll have the first draft of it completed by next week. With that coming up, I think it’s the perfect time to put another excerpt from the story on here. In this piece, you’ll get a look at one of the races I created for the world that the story is set in (no Elves, Dwarves, Orcs or Hobbits here), along with a look at the story’s big, bad villain.

Read on –

The Baroso were among the most fascinating creatures in Tordale. “Bear-men”, they were known as by some, for they looked exactly like the powerful creatures born out of nature, but they could stand, walk and speak just as humans could. This blend of advanced intelligence and primeval strength made them unlike any other race in the kingdom, and perhaps the mightiest of all inhabitants within Tordale.

Yet even the Rockclaw Tribe—one of the most-feared hordes of Baroso in the realm—found themselves struggling to stand against the mysterious force that swept through the Tower Mountains.

Tauroc’s iron war hammer smashed into his armored foe with frightening force. The hammer’s flat head nearly tore the helmet in half, and the warrior collapsed to the rocky floor in a heap. Yet when Tauroc looked down at his enemy, he once again saw that there was no body occupying the armor—just like the rest.
The Baroso chieftain kicked at the limp suit of armor. It was completely hollow.

Tauroc looked up from his lifeless foe. The ridges where he and the rest of the Rockclaw Tribe had lived for generations in the Tower Mountains had become the scene of a horrible battle. Waves of men entirely covered by black armor continued to pour into the Baroso camp. They came in all sizes, wielding an array of cruelly-shaped weapons. To one’s eyes they appeared to be human, but every time a Baroso fighter struck one down, they were revealed as nothing more than an empty suit of armor—as if the armor itself had somehow come to life.

A coating of dust and ash darkened the Baroso chieftain’s tawny fur. Blood ran out from multiple wounds across his massive body. He had not fallen beneath the attack of the armored beings yet, but several warriors of the Rockclaw Tribe already had.

Tauroc’s fierce eyes betrayed the confusion and fear that rose inside of him. If the armored beings continued to swarm the ridges in such numbers, many more would, as well. Although just a single Baroso warrior proved capable of fending off several, the strange attackers seemed infinite, and they did not tire or show pain like the living.

Tauroc tightened his grip about the shaft on his mighty war hammer. He set himself forward, ready to charge into battle once more, until a tremendous explosion tore through the Rockclaw camp. Tauroc toppled to the ground, and he saw the lifeless bodies of three Baroso fighters be flung from the blast.

When the Baroso chieftain regained his senses, he saw someone emerge from the cloud of smoke and dust. It was a giant of a man, nearly as large as one of the great Baroso warriors. He was coated almost entirely in black armor, except for the large, silver shoulder plates from which a number of spikes jutted. A dark cape bordered by blood-red insignias ran down to his ankles. His skin was shockingly white; a stark contrast from his dark beard and the jet-black hair that fell far past his shoulders.

The huge man stopped. He stared blankly across the carnage, his yellowish eyes cutting straight through the smoke and flames.

Tauroc felt the man’s gaze nearly pin him to the mountain floor.

Without even thinking, the Baroso chieftain charged at the man and loosed a bellowing roar. He swung his war hammer with crippling strength, aiming the iron head at the man’s immobile expression.

Tauroc’s body went cold when the man effortlessly caught the hammer in the palm of his hand.

“Hmph, foolish beast,” the man said with a devilish smirk.

His free hand balled up into a massive fist, which suddenly became engulfed in reddish flame. Still stunned by how easily the man foiled his attack, Tauroc didn’t even see the man’s fist smash into his sternum.

Tauroc felt his feet leave the mountain floor as he was hurled backwards. He crashed against a large boulder, the charred fur on his chest still smoking as he landed. His vision blurred and every part of his body grew numb. But he could still feel it when the huge man pressed an armored foot against his throat.

“Enough,” the man called out. He did not yell, yet his deep voice seemed to echo all throughout the Rockclaw’s ridges. Every armored warrior ceased fighting at his command, and the Baroso warriors soon did the same when they caught sight of their mighty chieftain laying at the huge man’s mercy. “Surrender; or I will wipe your chieftain’s carcass from this very earth.”

The Baroso warriors looked about at one another, terror previously never seen in their kind masking their expressions. The huge man smiled fiendishly as they lowered their weapons one-by-one. He looked down at Tauroc once more. “Your warriors finally seem to have come to their senses; can you say the same of yourself?” he asked.

Tauroc struggled to form a sneer. “Wha…what is it that you want of us?” the chieftain managed to respond, his voice choking with rage and pain.

The man lifted his foot from Tauroc’s throat, the dark smile still stretching over his eerily-white face. “Your kind will prove far more beneficial serving under me than being slaughtered; you know much of these mountains, and your strength is perhaps the greatest of the creatures in Tordale. I offer you and your tribe an opportunity to thrive instead of perish. I will spare you Baroso as I sweep across this land, but only if you submit yourselves to my command.” The man slowly, almost carefully, glanced about at the rest of the Baroso warriors on the ridges. “What do you choose for your tribe, Tauroc?” he asked, before his petrifying eyes fell back to the Baroso chieftain. “Life…or annihilation?”

It’s been a long time coming, but one of my short stories was finally produced as an audio story for the podcast Anthropomorphic Dreams

I wrote the story over two years ago, and the podcast unfortunately had a few issues with the original narrator, so it kind of sat in limbo for a good while. Thankfully, things turned out well in the end, and it was officially put up on their website just a couple short weeks ago.

The story centers around a group of sled dogs in Alaska, and yes, it’s one of those stories where the animals talk and think like humans and all that. Just think of a it as a Disney movie, or something like Balto. A link to the podcast is listed below for those who would like to listen to it.

AD 052 – Far From the Cold

Otherwise, I recently whipped up a couple of pieces for SabresHockeyCentral before the NHL regular season concluded (and the Sabres missed the playoffs…again…)

The first was a feature editorial detailing how the team performed without superstars Jason Pominville and Thomas Vanek, entitled “Quietly Going About Their Business”

http://sabreshockeycentral.com/2013/04/12/quietly-going-about-their-business/

The second was a countdown listing what I chose as the five most memorable games from the shortened season

http://sabreshockeycentral.com/2013/05/01/top-5-games-of-the-season/

Alongside all of that, I’ve made plenty of progress with my first novel. If all goes right, I’ll have the first draft completed by next week. I’ll have updates on it as things continue, so be on the lookout for another excerpt, and definitely news on the artwork which will be included in the book. I’ve been lucky enough to find a very talented artist who will be on board to do the cover for my books, along with illustrations throughout the story. Things are definitely getting exciting!

It was a heart-wrenching, terrifying week for America. Watching the tragic events which occurred in Boston, Massachusetts and Waco, Texas, it was hard not to get emotional at times. Many innocent people lost their lives, some from a freak, unfortunate accident, others purely because of someone else’s hate.

I got teary eyed more than once. These kind of tragedies happen all around the world every day, and I’ve experienced plenty that happened in America during my lifetime, but it’s never becomes any easier to witness. These are the kind of things I just can’t become numb to.

I think of the 8-year-old boy who was killed in one of the blasts at the Boston Marathon on Monday, how he’ll never be able to grow up and experience of the dreams he may have had. I think of the 26-year-old campus police officer at MIT who was killed when he confronted the suspects in Monday’s bombings; a young man just a few years older than I, again, now unable to live out his life and make the most of it.

That’s exactly what I try to take from these tragedies; you must cherish life. It’s a very fragile, precious thing that deserves our constant respect and admiration. I’ve been lucky enough to live to almost 23 years of age, and I can only hope I will live on for much longer. When I hear about someone losing their life so unexpectedly as the victims from this week did, I’m reminded that no one should waste the gift of life that they’ve been given.

Make every day count, accomplish everything you can possibly can, and cherish every person you share your life with.

But for all of the painful stories images we saw this week, we also saw a lot of beauty. We always wish it did not have to be so, but adversity truly does bring out the very best in humanity.

Perhaps the greatest representation came in the form of America’s armed forces and law enforcement, who I have always had the utmost respect for. These men and women are the real life heroes that writers like myself can only attempt to replicate; they’re the people who sacrifice their own comforts, their own well beings to preserve everyone else’s around them. Many were injured in the pursuits of stopping the men who tried to bring terror to Boston, and as mentioned before, one lost his life. Their efforts will be—and rightfully deserve to be—commended for the longest time to come. It’s only because of them that an entire city was kept safe during this frightening event.

We also saw an incredible amount of courage from every day people. As comedian Patton Oswalt noted in his own response to the Boston Marathon bombings— “You watch the videos of the carnage and there are people running TOWARDS the destruction to help out.” Mere seconds after the blasts went off, countless men and women dove into the devastation to assist the wounded. These people didn’t have time to contemplate the danger they were putting themselves in because their natural reaction to try and aid others.

I read stories of Boston Marathon runners who, after having crossed the finish line, continued running to nearby hospitals in order to donate blood. The selfless reactions that so many people had in the city of Boston was nothing short of inspirational; reassuring that there is good in this world after such horrible actions were committed.

The rest of the country saw that courage, too, and it spread. In the wake of these events, you could feel the country coming together to support itself. Whether it was through donations or money, paraphernalia, time, or simply words of encouragement all across social media, we saw countless Americans give a bit of themselves to the victims of these tragedies.

I will never forget watching the hockey game between the Boston Bruins and Buffalo Sabres in Boston on Wednesday, April 17th, just two days after the marathon bombings. Two teams, two fanbases who abhor each other set those distastes aside and rooted for one another. The hockey players are not the heroes like the soldiers and emergency responders are, but they did their own part to help America heal, even if it was just for a night. Seeing the Bruins players and Sabres players come together at the end of the contest and hold their sticks high to salute the crowd will go down as one of the most powerful images I have ever seen in my life.

Boston Strong. American Strong. Humanity Strong.

Whenever I hear someone say that they had the best weekend or the best week ever, I always think of that Hey Arnold! Episode “The List”, where Arnold attempts to spend the perfect Saturday doing everything a kid loves to do; eat sugary cereal and watch cartoons all morning, bike down the biggest hill in the city, play baseball with every kid in the park etc.

I’ve always anticipated certain weekends, weeks and even vacations as being the “best ever” because of all the things I had planned for them. Of course, just like Arnold’s plans in that episode (for those who remember) many of the, didn’t go as well as I had hoped.

But last week was absolutely one of the best of my life.

It all started with Easter Sunday, which in my family may as well be more important than Christmas; there’s an extra buzz to Easter when you’re a raucous Polish family, I suppose. This year we got 27 of us all together at my house to celebrate, which included a ridiculous amount of food and, yes, booze. In all we were only missing a handful of family members from my dad’s side of the family, so to have that many of us all partying at once was really special.

The next day was even more fun. When you’re Polish and you live in Western New York, the day after Easter isn’t April Fools Day; it’s Dyngus Day, the Polish equivalent to St. Patty’s Day where you wear red and white, drink a lot, dance to polka, and the girls occasionally smack the guys with pussy willows. Most people probably know it as the holiday that Anderson Cooper made fun of last year, but trust me when I say that we Pollacks know have to have a darn good time. I spent almost the entire day out with my family and friends, threw back a few beers with them, and polka’d my butt off with the prettiest gal I know.

I also got to meet two of the Buffalo Sabres at separate autograph signings. Wednesday was really special for me because I finally met Ryan Miller in person. Miller’s been my favorite athlete for years now and I’ve always loved watching him play in net, both for the Sabres and when he tore it up at the 2010 Winter Olympics. Then on Saturday I went to meet Cody Hodgson, the 23 year old center for the Sabres. It’s always kind of funny when you think that you’re meeting a kid just a few months older than yourself and treating him as a celebrity, but I’ve got a ton of respect for Cody after the great season he’s had with the team, and the fact that he may very well become a star in the NHL within a couple years’ time.

On top of all of that, I got a ton of writing done last week. I finally reached the 50,000 word and 100 page plateaus for my novel, and I’m nearing its completion every day I get a little more work done. It’s been a ton of fun so far and I’m really liking the way that the story is turning out; I feel that my action is gripping, I love the dialogue I’m creating between the characters, and I’m especially enjoying the way that my characters are progressing over the course of the book. And this is just the first of three books!

So that’s what entails a best week ever for me—family, friends, polka, drinking, writing and hockey. I have an awesome life.

Growing up, I didn’t exactly have a “hero” that I looked to as a role model. Most kids choose someone like a star athlete, or a superhero; me, I really liked Godzilla when I was a young’n. But even back then, I realized that he wasn’t real, he was a 400 foot fire breathing lizard who body slammed other monsters through buildings.

Still, there are plenty of celebrities and the like that I can call my “favorites”. I grew up watching pro wrestling, so I was always a huge fan of such wrestlers like the Undertaker, the Rock and especially Stone Cold Steve Austin—the latter being an alcoholic redneck who gave people the middle finger and swore like a sailor. Obviously a great role model for 8 year old Jeffy.

As I got older I strayed from pro wrestling and eventually became interested in normal sports. Hockey became my favorite of those, and I quickly became a fan of my hometown team, the Buffalo Sabres. I didn’t have a favorite player, though, until goaltender Ryan Miller burst onto the scene in 2005. It all stems from my days playing lacrosse in high school; I would slick my long hair back to put on my helmet, and according to everyone I knew, I looked like Miller. I started to see a resemblance, myself, so I ran with it. Now he’s probably my favorite athlete in any sport, and there’s a long-running gag amongst my close family and friends that I have a “man crush” on him. It’s purely platonic, I swear.

I recently met Miller for the first time at an autograph signing. In the last year or so I’ve been lucky enough to meet several other Buffalo Sabres players, including former center Paul Gaustad, goaltender Jhonas Enroth, defenseman Christian Ehrhoff and, just yesterday, 23 year old center Cody Hodgson.

Since I’ve gotten hooked on the Ultimate Fighting Championship, there are plenty of pro fighters I’d love to meet. I came into the sport too late to appreciate such legends like Chuck Liddell, Randy Couture or Matt Hughes, so my favorite combatants are mostly the newer stars who have emerged in recent years. I also tend to like the lighter weight fighters the most, given that I’m not exactly a giant or muscle head myself; this would be guys like bantamweight champion Dominick Cruz, “The California Kid” Urijah Faber, lightweight champion Benson Henderson, and current featherweight title challenger Anthony “Showtime” Pettis.

While I’m a huge fan of all of these guys, I don’t necessarily strive to emulate them; the only human being I put continued effort into being like is Jesus Christ, and that’s for far different, deeper reasons than why I like an athlete so much.

There are other gentlemen that I try to emulate for their talents, however, and those are successful writers who have influenced my own work. I always wish that J.R.R. Tolkien—legendary author of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings—could have survived into this age, just so I could see and read more of him. It’s because of his writing that the genre of high fantasy became a staple in literature, and since I’m such a sucker for all of that magic, knights, dragons and castles stuff, I hold his efforts in very high regard.

Brian Jacques is another deceased author that I really admire for his work. His Redwall series of books was easily my favorite while I was in middle school, and in more recent years I read his Castaways of the Flying Dutchman series. Jacques breathed so much life into his books, between the extensive (and mouth-watering) descriptions of food , the bright personalities of his characters, those same characters’ unique dialects, the incredible backstory and history he added to his worlds.

Straying into more realistic authors, Louis L’Amour is a writer that I’ve taken a lot of inspiration from. While I love his famous Western tales, it was his lesser-known stories about boxers that I particularly enjoyed. A few of the short stories that I’ve had published have been about mixed martial artists, and I can positively say that you’ll see influences of L’Amour’s style in my works about a different kind of professional fighter.

A couple of authors who are still around and who I follow faithfully are Jeff Shaara, who has made his name writing historical epics set during America’s most famous wars, and young adult author David Clement Davies, whose anthropomorphic adventures (Firebringer, The Sight, Fell) are among my favorite novels in the last decade.

I would say that my favorite author at the moment would be Terry Brooks, author of the Shannara series of high fantasy novels. While I believe that The Lord of the Rings is the greatest story ever created, I feel that the Shannara books are the best fantasy novels out there. Brooks has grown tremendously as a writer since his debut novel The Sword of Shannara from 1977, which was a bit of a Tolkien knock-off.

Brooks eventually went on to add a lot of his own creative flair to the world that he dreamed up for his novels, eventually going on to make a fantasy world that’s refreshingly unique and colorful in an era of media that either continues to copy The Lord of the Rings, or be gratuitously gritty and edgy.

I feel I’m following Brooks—and going well beyond—when it comes to putting my readers in a fantasy world that’s a breath of fresh air among the rest of the genre. But what I take most from Brooks is his style of writing, which puts a heavy emphasis on a telling the story from the characters’ point of view, without jumping into a first-person style of writing. When I read his first few books, the technique occasionally threw me off, until I eventually realized how much it drew you into the action. When you know exactly what the hero is thinking, and when the narrator tells you what it’s like for the hero to witness all that’s occurring around them, it really breathes a lot of life into the words.

I can only hope and strive to accomplish the same someday.

Between the hundreds of books that I’ve read, and the tremendous amount of time that I’ve spent writing, I’ve acquired a pretty large vocabulary over the years. By reading, I’ve encountered so many words that I rarely use in everyday speech, and plenty that I never even knew existed. I’ve taken those words into my own writing, but before I’ve ever done that, I’ve made sure that I properly understood the words and what they mean.

On a basic level, this means cracking open the dictionary and reading its definition, or leafing through the thesaurus to find similar words. But by experiencing so many fantastic adventures simply through written words, and creating so many adventures with my own, I’ve found that certain words have much greater meaning than what any linguist will tell you; there are some words that symbolize the greatest elements of humans and this world we inhabit.

These are the three words that I find the most meaning in, the kind I would get tattooed someday…if I ever decide to get a tattoo.

COURAGE

The word “Courage” probably means more to me than most people because of the type of stories that I write. The stories that I dream up always involve some kind of action and adventure, whether it takes place in everyday life, or a world that only exists through my imagination. I make sure that my characters need to overcome some kind of challenge on their way to achieving their goal, usually in the form of an adversary or task that has the potential to do them real harm should they fail.

But courage is hardly exclusive to those who face adversity which threatens them physically; courage exists in any person who knowingly fears something, or knows that they may fail, yet stand and face that challenge, regardless. Not every person is gifted with prodigious strength, tremendous intellect, or even material goods; but if you have the will to accomplish something, the desire for something so strongly, you always have the chance to realize it simply by moving forward and pursuing it.

Anyone can be physically strong, extremely wise or ludicrously wealthy, but it takes a truly powerful human being to possess great courage. And it’s with great courage that you can overcome any obstacle; whether it’s in a world with magic, dragons and wizards, or our own.

LOVE

To me, love is the ultimate inspiration. There is no other emotion in this world which can drive a person to accomplish something; it’s the very thing that fuels courage. Romantic love is certainly included here—and something I can attest to—but love stretches far beyond what girl or what guy you feel an especially strong connection with.

A major reason why I’m so fond of the word is because of my personal faith in Jesus Christ. He had a very simple message while he walked this earth, and that was to love all those around you, and everything within this earth, because it is through love that you can make this world—or simply someone’s—a greater place to live in. I do my best to live by that mantra. I admit, I don’t always succeed at it, but I know that you can only be a great human being by showing love for those you share this life with.

In truth, love is a lot of things. Love is respect, strength, compassion, honesty, forgiveness, charity, bravery, sacrifice; it’s any emotion or action that betters the existence of another, and that’s what resonates so much with me.

BELIEVE

Life isn’t easy. It isn’t easy for the characters that I write about, it isn’t easy for me, and it isn’t easy for anybody that I know. We regularly find ourselves running into obstacles, and the things that we want the most often don’t come to us without a lot of struggle. Sometimes, it feels like they’ll never come to us at all.

It’s easy to lose hope, but you can never accomplish anything by giving up. You can’t achieve your dream if you think that you’re not good enough, or that a task is impossible to overcome; the only way you’ll ever realize a goal is by believing that you are capable of accomplishing anything you set your mind, body and heart to.

To me, I feel that when you believe in yourself, it’s the beginning of a journey. It’s what sets you forward on an adventure where the destination is something you desire and value with the greatest passion there can be. It’s unbreakable pride and confidence in yourself that keeps the journey going no matter how difficult it becomes, no matter how many times its trials bring you to your knees.

“Believe” is such an amazing word for all that it represents; the purest, immeasurable desire to realize the dream that makes you the person that you are. And I believe that I can achieve everything I dream of for myself, and this world.