Honor We Choose: Autumn Part II

I wanted to share a short story I wrote when I was still in college.  I think it's one of the best short stories I've written even though it can be very cliche and tell-y rather than show-y.  Nevertheless, I'm proud of it as one of my earliest works, and it's always interesting to revisit where you've been in the past.  Here's part 2 of 3.  Enjoy.

Satoru knelt on the wooden floor. "My lord, news from the village of Mujaki."

He looked up at the shogun. Shogun Hibiki's aura seemed to demand respect and admiration from those who looked on. His confident eyes, the polite smile, and understanding posture he possessed whenever any person of importance entered his presence. His kind and generous heart seemed to show through whenever he gave token gifts to the common people. In his travels that often took him all around the kingdom, Satoru found few people who did not respect the shogun. He seemed to be the son of the gods, charismatic, endowed with a fair complexion, and unbeatable in combat ever since he vanquished the previous shogun and took his place. Yet the thought shot into the back of Satoru’s mind, "If they all really knew......"

From his stately throne, Shogun Hibiki looked at Satoru with interest. "What is your report, Morimoto?"

With his head still bowed, Satoru replied, "My lord, I have discovered a prominent member of the rebel forces living in Mujaki. Apparently he has gone under the guise of a blacksmith."

"I see. Have you disposed of him yet?"

"No, my lord, I thought it prudent to report to you first. I ask your Excellency if you would have this man delivered dead or alive."

Shogun Hibiki smiled and gave a throaty chuckle, "You may dispose of him and bring me back his head. I will not tolerate any mutinous individuals in my kingdom."

"Yes, my lord," Satoru stood up and turned to leave.

"Oh, there is one more thing, Morimoto," Shogun Hibiki added, "Please take Tsukinai Hageshii with you and give the village of Mujaki the shogun’s blessing."

"My lord, they are unaware of the rebel’s presence. Is it wise to give them your blessing?"

"Do you question my orders, Morimoto?" Shogun Hibiki asked in a threatening tone.

Satoru closed his eyes and clenched his fist. The shogun’s words echoed in his mind as it had many times in the past. After a moment of silence, he responded, "Yes, my lord. By your leave I will depart tomorrow morning." Satoru walked to the sliding door, turned toward the shogun and bowed. After the door was completely closed, he made his way to the exit. He walked past the cage of tigers, past the shogun’s collection of ancient artifacts and weapons, past the tables laden with tall stacks of coins collected for taxes, and past the neatly folded sheets of silk waiting to be made into the shogun’s clothes. Stepping outside, he past the endless number of pools filled with huge goldfish and the towering statue commemorating the shogun.

After a mile separated Satoru and the shogun’s palace, he slumped against a tree. Autumn had come, and the leaves turned from green to a dying gold and brown. Autumn's cool breeze and cloudy days reigned over the land. The measly sun rays that broke through the cloud cover didn’t generate enough heat to warm Satoru from the breeze blowing through the trees. In the distance, he could hear the sad ballad of the whales, mourning the passing of summer.

Satoru closed his eyes and gripped the hilt of his katana with both of his hands. "Do I have a choice anymore? There can be only one solution." As Satoru sat there, the retreating sun began to sink below the horizon, leaving him to meditate in the light of dusk. Noticing that the light was fleeing the land, he headed for home.

Karumi sat at the steps of the Morimoto residence, torch in hand and dagger in her sash. Despite the fact that the shogun's retainers kept the kingdom rather peaceful, the night still didn’t feel safe to Karumi. Her eyes darted back and forth in the night, looking for the appearance of her husband. Satoru never returned home so late without sending a messenger ahead.

She heard someone slowly approaching the house in the dark and drew her dagger. Only thieves and ronin soldiers traveled without a torch. "Who goes there?" A figure finally stepped into the meager light cast by Karumi's torch. She saw Satoru, shoulders sagging and head bowed. Karumi put her dagger away and looked at him, concerned. Although she had taught him about sensitivity and vulnerability, Satoru never showed any signs of sadness and depression --until now. In fact, Karumi had never seen him cry. Satoru shuffled his way to Karumi and held out his arms pleadingly.

She rushed to him and put her arms around him, and as he enclosed his arms around her, she laid her head on his shoulder. "What is the matter, Satoru?"

In a still, quiet voice, he replied, "Just hold me, kanai."

As they embraced each other, Satoru's body began to shudder as his eyes began to water. In a choked voice, Satoru said, "What have I done?" He paused and repeated in a softer voice, "What have I done?" Karumi only squeezed him tighter and waited for him to compose himself. But the fact remained. Satoru had almost cried. But this was enough for Karumi to start crying.

Entering the house, they sat down as Satoru conveyed the secret he always kept from Karumi. "So, the shogun's blessing is really an order to kill every single person in the village? I don't understand. Why would the shogun want to kill all the villagers? They don't even know this man is a rebel."

"He wants to send a message to the rebels. He wants them to feel guilty if they cause the death of a whole village. This way, their souls would never rest in peace.

Still shocked, Karumi responded, "I never thought Shogun Hibiki would do such things."

Angrily, Satoru said, "There is more. Since becoming head retainer, I have seen things--done things--that I never imagined. Hibiki would send me out at night and kidnap young girls so that he could sleep with them. I would retrieve prostitutes for him. I killed men on his whim I killed women who resisted his advances. I stole many of the artifacts he has displayed in his palace. I collected taxes from poor farmers who couldn't have enough money to feed their children." He paused. "You remember the village of Giseisha?"

Karumi nodded again. "Didn't a band of ronin warriors attack and pillage Giseisha? They killed everyone there....." It dawned on Karumi what Satoru was getting at. "You killed everyone there. Satoru?"

"The situation with Mujaki is the same as Giseisha, but I cannot live with more innocent blood on my hands."

Karumi was still reeling from these revealing truths. The tales of immorality and evil Satoru spoke of. Yet what shocked her most was Satoru's involvement in this--and his decision to keep her in the dark on the situation.

She whispered softly, "Why didn't you tell me? Do you know how much this hurts to know that I have been living under a lie?"

Satoru lowered his eyes in shame. "I am sorry. I have no excuse. I was being selfish. I didn't want you to leave me. I could not expect you to live with a monster like me, and I understand if you walk out the door right now."

Karumi sat behind him and embraced him from behind, kissing him on the nape of the neck. "I forgive you. I am just proud of the fact that you did come out and admit it. I can tell that you are full of regret and want to do something about it. You finally see that you have a responsibility to someone else other than the shogun. You have a responsibility to yourself. But you have still shed much innocent blood. How are you going to make it right before the gods?"

Satoru responded, "There can only be one way to redeem myself. Although I cannot undo that which has been done, I will make sure that Hibiki turns from his ways. If that does not work, then only blood will purify my hands."

"You understand you will be an outlaw for the rest of your life if you do what you plan."

"I know. But you are the one who taught me to protect others and look beyond myself."

Karumi faintly smiled and stood up, "You also understand that I cannot come with you."

Satoru stood up and put his hand on her shoulder, "Why not? Is it because I will be dishonorable for abandoning my position as head retainer and plotting worse deeds? Please do not leave me, Karumi. I need you more than ever to love me and support me." Taking his hand off Karumi's shoulder, Satoru closed his eyes and walked across the room, staring out the window into the starless night.

"It is not that. Even though your hands are stained with the blood of innocent people and you are going to betray the trust of your shogun, I still love you. But this you know already. I would not be able to live staying a step ahead of soldiers and constantly on the run. Besides, I would only slow you down and get in your way. I was not raised as a samurai warrior, and you cannot be looking over my shoulder all the time."

Still looking out the window, Satoru replied, "But I cannot just leave you here. They would exact revenge on you."

"I know," Karumi said calmly, "That is why I have to do what I have to do." She reached for her dagger. "Forgive me, Satoru. Please forgive me."

Satoru blinked, suddenly realizing what Karumi planned to do. Quickly turning around, he watched in horror as she raised the dagger with both hands, praying that gods would accept her soul. Satoru bolted across the room, trying to reach for the dagger. "Please, Karumi! You do not need to......" Satoru's words are interrupted as she plunged it into the right side of her stomach.

Satoru's eyes widened as he cried out, "NO!" but it was too late. Karumi clenched her teeth as she moved the dagger across her stomach and pulled it upward. In shock, Satoru grabbed the dagger out of her hand, but the damage had been done. A stream of red began to soak her kimono. Satoru held Karumi close to him. His heart cried out emotions he could not express.

Karumi's trembling hand took the gold rod out of her hair and placed it in Satoru's hand. Her hair fell down on Satoru's arm. In a soft voice, she said, "I will always be with you." As she paused, her eyes winced with pain. She continued even softer, "You made the right decision.......You followed your conscience." Karumi's body shivered as death wrapped its icy embrace, engulfing her soul.

There wasn't anything he could say at this moment. The stalwart samurai couldn't utter any words of love or compassion. Satoru clenched the gold rod in his hand as he felt Karumi’s body go limp. He held her body tighter to his as he shed a tear--a tear that fell on Karumi's cheek, mingling with her tears--the first snowflake of winter just before the snowstorm.

****

He threw the torch into the center of the room, and the flame caught fire on the circle of wood. In the middle of the circle lay Karumi, dressed in her marriage kimono. He stared at her face for the last time and walked out of the house. Burning some incense near the bonfire, Satoru prayed that Karumi's soul would join her ancestors and watch over him.

As the embers of the dying fire flickered, he looked into the ashes. "I can no longer shed any more tears of grief. From now on, there will only be the shedding of blood." He retreated into the night; his only companions were his katana, all the money he owned, Karumi's dagger and the gold rod.

Honor We Choose: Summer Part I

I wanted to share a short story I wrote when I was still in college.  I think it's one of the best short stories I've written even though it can be very cliche and tell-y rather than show-y.  Nevertheless, I'm proud of it as one of my earliest works, and it's always interesting to revisit where you've been in the past.  Here's part 1 of 3.  Enjoy.

 "How can I deny what I have seen and done in the past month," he thought. The thoughts and emotions swirled in his head, and he was unsure of his course of action. "How can the gods ever forgive me if I......." Satoru was so distraught and distracted that he did not notice a figure walk up behind him.

"Morimoto-kun," a voice behind Satoru said. He snapped out of his meditation and saw Ayukawa Akira standing behind him with his katana slung in his sheath, wearing only a pair of white pants and moccasins.

"Konnichi wa, old friend," Satoru said.

"And such a beautiful afternoon it is. Karumi said I’d find you out here."

Satoru turned from Akira and stared into the ocean again. The image of his hands covered with the blood of that young boy protecting his sister burned in his mind. He whispered to the young boy’s soul: "Why didn’t you just stay out of the Shogun’s business?" The mournful cry of the boy’s soul reverberated in Satoru’s ears, sorrowing his soul.

"Do you have something on your mind, Morimoto-kun? Normally I’d never be able to sneak up on you like this." Akira looked at his friend with concern.

"Just pondering upon the ocean. Notice how the mighty waves invade the shore, and as they return to their source, they suck in whatever gets in the way....." Satoru’s voice trailed off at the last word and remained silent. He pulled out his katana and sliced the surface of the water, but more water just filled in the cut that he made. He whispered, "It’s useless."

"Karumi sent me out here to bring you back for tea. We do not want to keep her waiting."

Satoru turned around and smiled. "My thanks. Shall we go then?" Akira nodded. Satoru sheathed his katana, and the two walked back to Satoru’s residence.

The summer heat blanketed the earth with its warm embrace, and all life seemed to flourish under its care. They talked of old times as they walked back. Satoru laughed at the time when they were little boys, and they had a competition to see who could climb a tree the quickest. Satoru’s broken arm didn’t heal for many months. Soon, Satoru stopped, recognizing a familiar spot. He glanced up at the tree and noticed a small platform built into a lofty branch. Looking at the right palm of his hand, he ran his finger through a small scar that ran the whole length of his hand. Akira stood next to him and looked up at the tree.

"You remember this place, Ayukawa-kun?" Satoru asked, still looking at his hand.

"How can I forget? This is our little fortress that we would play in as children. This is where we made that oath...."

Satoru interrupted him, "We slashed the right palms of our hands and mingled our blood. Do you remember the promise we made?"

"A promise to be loyal to each other above anything else. To essentially be two bodies with one soul," Akira said proudly. Satoru just stood in silence, looking at the scar on his hand. Akira glanced at Satoru nervously.

Noticing Akira’s concerned look, Satoru asked with a forced cheerfulness, "What is the matter, Ayukawa-kun?"

"It is nothing," he lied. Akira had noticed ever since a week ago, he acted different, becoming more contemplative and easily distracted. He could not find any explanation for this because Satoru seemed to have it all. He had a great wife in Karumi. He had been the head retainer to Shogun Hibiki for over a month now. He was arguably the best swordsman in Japan, perhaps even surpassing the shogun himself. What could be wrong with Satoru?

Akira thought, "Why do your once proud shoulders sag and your confident eyes avert eye-to-eye contact? You speak in riddles that only priests amuse themselves with. What has changed you so much?" Satoru’s broad, five foot nine inch frame seemed shriveled with shame and burden. He seemed a smaller man to Akira now.

Satoru noticed Akira glancing at him and grinned. "Do not look at me with such pity, friend. I’m just thinking about some of the tasks I must accomplish tomorrow. Being the head retainer to the honorable Shogun Hibiki is very demanding." He hated having to lie to Akira. They had known each other for too long. As childhood friends, they always did everything together. A pair of six year-old kids tried to improve their swordsmanship by sparring with each other with sticks. Two young children devoted their lives to the Shogun, following their dreams of attaining retainer status. Two young adults faithfully served the Shogun. Two bachelors agreed to find each other the perfect wife and succeeded in their task. But no matter how close the bond between them was, Satoru couldn’t tell him--not until he was ready.

"I will tell you someday when I have made my decision and am ready to share my burden with you, friend," Satoru thought to himself, "Just rest in the fact that I will never turn my back on you."

Satoru and Akira reached the Morimoto residence and opened the wooden sliding. Karumi had just finished filling the tea kettle with hot water.

She smiled and bowed toward the two men. "Okaerinasai." Satoru and Akira acknowledged Karumi’s welcome, unstrapped their katanas, and sat at the table. Satoru gazed at his wife. Karumi was dressed in a traditional silk kimono with an elaborate floral pattern sewn on it. Her long black hair was rolled up and held up by a gold rod--the same gold rod that Satoru had given her on the day they were married. Karumi poured tea into three porcelain cups, handed them to both Satoru and Akira, and sat down with her own tea. Satoru shifted his attention away from her, as they gave thanks to the ancestors and drank the tea. Satoru stole another glance at Karumi as she poured some more tea.

Karumi was all that Satoru could ever wish for in a wife. Although she submitted to him in every way, she meant more to Satoru than that. Karumi quietly and subtly changed Satoru’s outlook in life. He was more compassionate, patient, and gentle than before. He had been taught that an adamant samurai was to show no weakness and vulnerability, but Karumi finally convinced him that sensitivity was acceptable. Karumi always said that holding in emotions and thoughts all the time only increase anger and pain. Yet her greatest accomplishment was helping Satoru drive the selfishness out of him--a task that was only conquered a week ago. Before, he would only do something if it concerned her, Akira, himself, or his loyalty to Shogun Hibiki. Nothing else mattered in his life. Though he always held the ideal of the great samurai warrior who protected the people from the evil forces that were bent on harming them, Satoru never really possessed a heart for the common people. She tried to teach him to live up to the great samurai warrior ideal no matter what the cost. But through many tears, heart aches, and verbal fights, Karumi had changed his life for the better. For this, Satoru was forever grateful.

Satoru closed his eyes and drank another cup of hot tea. He vowed in his heart, "May the gods destroy my soul if I ever betray you, Karumi."

Fandom: Finally Something About Vienna Teng

So let me tell you a secret about myself.  Vienna Teng is aces in my book.  Well, I suppose that's not that much of a secret.  If you don't know about my embarrassing stories regarding the singer/songwriter Vienna Teng, feel free to ask me.  Or you can try to find my secret (not-so-secret and long since unused) Tumblr for the gory recap.  It's painful, entertaining and will be very on topic for later in this blog post.

Down to business, Vienna has a new album coming out, and she started a Kickstarter program for the funding of a music video she wants to do for one of her new songs.  You can visit the link here, but what I want you to take notice of is the $5000 exclusive, "Spend A Day With Me."

Let's just say I was almost $5000 poorer, but I held off.  Fortunately/unfortunately both of those two slots were purchased, so the temptation is removed from me, but man, wouldn't that have been cool?  In my mind's eye, I can imagine how absolutely wonderful a day with Vienna Teng would be -- sharing a meal with her and six of my friends, perhaps playing some Settlers of Catan, listening to her sing songs, etc etc.  It would be the ultimate fan experience.

And that's why I couldn't pony up the $5000.  Because it would be interacting with her as a fan.  I'm probably very strange, but I don't like interacting with people in such an unbalanced dynamic.  This is the one thing I struggle with -- fandom.  I'm all for liking stuff (to the surprise of many, I'd guess),  but being a fan draws up some horrible imagery in my mind.  For example, this, stuff like this that happens at Comic Con and even RTX, a convention I got back from in Austin back in July.  All the screaming, cheering and mad rush to get people's autographs.  These are supposed to be fan experiences --- the coolest experiences -- but I guess grumpy ol' me has a problem with it.

I don't know what it is, but the unbalanced relationship really gets to me.  Whenever you really interact with the object of your fandom --- what is there to say?  I love you.  I love your work. You are an inspiration to me, etc etc.  It's not like they haven't heard that before, and honestly, what are the chances that they are going to remember your name or face ten seconds after you meet them?  Usually that's very unlikely.  Maybe I'm too cynical, but one of the things that is important to me is genuineness and sincere interactions, and I don't feel like this is the case of when you are just a fan of someone.  You aren't going to have a long, meaningful conversation with them (most likely.)  And usually it ends up being awkward for you or for them.  I think Los Angeles has it right.  They act like they've been there before.  Whenever they see a celebrity, it's not a big deal.  Maybe a head nod, a hand shake or a wink, but that's it.  There's no fawning over people and delirious screaming. 

Anyways, back to why I didn't spend $5000, I think I might just be a bit haughty, but if/when I do have a real interaction with Vienna, I don't want to just be a fan.  I want my writing or me to be someone she can be a fan of.  That sounds so cocky, and I'm sorry.  I'd rather have no relationship with her or anyone else rather than be a fan.  

So what does all of this mean?  Do I hate fans like the people I linked to previously?  Kind of, but I'm trying not to.  Who am I to tell people how they should like the things they like?  I'm trying to be better about dismissing people because they like things I deem to be terrible and of no taste.  Fandom just isn't for me.  I don't want to be a fan.  I want to be a friend.  That makes me sound like a jerk, but this is what it is.   

That being said, look forward to the next time I make a fool of myself in front of Vienna Teng.  It will be so exciting. 

 --Jonathan

Silence

With bright eyes and fears unlearned, I called out to the void,
And the void said nothing in return.

With all my hopes and dreams, I did not know where to start.
So I began with the things I loved and held close to my heart,
Expressing the greatest moments I have ever known.
There was the first time I rode my bike without crashing,
And when I first fell in love, my life with her in my mind flashing.
Though I spoke bravely about my joys, the void was silent as stone.

I then turned to the things I feared the most.
The darkest recesses of my mind I did not withhold.
I spoke of the shameful secrets I never told,
And the rejection I so actively tried to evade.
So many days and years of my life I’ve wasted
Because of the letdown I was afraid.
Yet through it all, the void was empty and cold.

Now knowing eyes look into the dark,
And reality of my aloneness becomes stark.
I wondered why I spoke to the void at all,
For certainly the silence meant it did not care.
Try as I might in my growing despair,
The void could not spare a moment to heed my call.

So should I give up telling my stories to the void?
There are still so many things I have yet to speak about,
But the deafening apathy has my confidence destroyed.
Should I keep it in as I’ve done before?
For there is no one but the void within earshot.
There is no one else with whom I can share.

No.

The void will never beat me though it may try.
I will continue shouting into the empty spaces.
Every baby step I take, and every tear I dry,
Will give me strength to fight and embrace.
For I have come too far to let the void win.
With all of my might, I will fight and fight and fight
Until the void has a reply.

The Issue of Gender

This is the fifth in a series of articles that explains the inspirations that led to "The Rose's Thorn."  Warning, there are spoilers in this article; so if you want to remain totally unspoiled, please do not read this until you have read all the way through the book.

Women and entertainment have a very sordid history that spans decades and centuries.  I think it’s fair to say there’s a lot of sexism when it comes to the objectification of women in art, sports, movies and fiction.  Our world in general is and has been a patriarchal society from the very beginning where the worth of a woman was based on either their appearance or their ability to bear children. 

When it comes to fiction, you can look far in the past where we have the depictions of women in Arthurian legend and the idea of courtly love where the females were the highest pedestal on which to worship.  In some sense, courtly love gave some of the power back to women, but it was still in such a damsel-in-distress and superficial beauty kind of way.  Yes, things have gotten better as we’ve progressed as a society, but there are still so many problems in the way we objectify women.  One very funny and yet serious example of the issue still lingering is in this funny post by Jim C. Hines. 

One of the things I wanted to do in this book was to give a fair shake to the ladies.  In “The Rose’s Thorn,” the sexism still has to exist because it is a world not unsimilar to ours, but I was interested in exploring what it means to be a woman during that time.  As a caveat, yes, I am indeed a guy, and you can argue whether I did a sufficient job of creating a three dimensional character who happens to be a woman.  But I tried. 

Obviously the biggest thing I wanted to do was make the cover art a bit different than the standard fare.  Instead of a stunningly beautiful girl on the cover being a badass, Isabella is more of an androgynous figure who perhaps isn’t the standard beauty you’d expect from the femme fatale.  This is the struggle Isabella faces: she does not want to be associated with the standard definition of being female as seen in her disgust with all the other women in the story, but perhaps acting like a male all the time isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  Much like we talked about last week, the conflict is that she’s looking for a middle ground between what it means to be a female and why it is that power is always so naturally associated with male. 

With our society’s idolization of “lookism,” it might be easy to say that both males and females are often judged upon their looks above everything else.  This is why everyone on TV and movies are generally very attractive, but if you look further for women, the roles start diminishing rather quickly as they get older.  Suddenly Heather Graham who was once looked upon as sexy lead in a movie is now finding herself playing mostly moms.  As well, less attractive males seem to be more successful than less attractive females because there are a variety of roles for men that don’t rely on “lookism.”

Back to the book, one of the things I made an effort into touching on was the role reversal of Christopher and Isabella.  Christopher is definitely more “girly” because of his sensitive nature and inability to fight whereas Isabella is much more blunt/colder and is a badass with a sword.  She is often mistaken for a guy because of her behavior.  Now, I’m not going to push this topic to the ultimate conclusion that gender roles are meaningless, because I don’t believe that, but I’m a big proponent in the middle ground.  Even if traditional general qualities are seen as “manly” or “girly,” I think there are definitely lessons that we can take from each other to becoming better human beings and more considerate of other people. 

Still, the fact remains that sexism is still alive and well today.  Despite all the progress we might have with Title Nine or the Nineteenth Amendment, it’s not an equal playing field when it comes to men and women.  Honestly, I sometimes even get caught up in sexism because it is so prevalent in our society.  However, Isabella is an expression for me to say that we can still fight for gender equality (not gender superiority in either direction), and we can strive for something better.  To be something better.  Even if that road is long and arduous still. 

--Jonathan

Two Roads: Two Meanings Part 2

This is the fourth in a series of articles that explains the inspirations that led to "The Rose's Thorn."  Warning, there are spoilers in this article; so if you want to remain totally unspoiled, please do not read this until you have read all the way through the book.

Last week we talked the theme of two roads and what it meant to make choices that lead you down one certain path or another.  Here is the second article about the two roads mantra, and perhaps it is the biggest reason why I chose to name the series “A Two Roads Novel.” 

I think by nature, most, if not all, people are conflicted in their self-identity.  Humans are very multi-faceted in their relationship with others, and that dimensionality leads to a lot of conflict when you factor in the expectations we place on each other.  Naturally, we want to take a thing and categorize it by “putting it in this box or another.”  Whether good or ill, we make grand assumptions about a person based on their appearance, personality or even their hobbies.  Obviously a lot of these generalizations can lead to prejudice, racism or any host of uncool things because as Reading Rainbow always taught me, you can’t judge a book by its cover.

For Christopher, we see the duality of his being, being a noble by birth but feeling much more comfortable with the non-noble people such as Gerald or Apelles.  In the eyes of others, he will always be perceived as a noble no matter how many steps he takes in order to distinguish himself from the likes of Malcant or others.  We see this especially through the eyes of Isabella who refuses to see him in any other light and treats him rather poorly.  Nobility is the expectation everyone has for him though he would rather walk the path of commoner instead.

For Isabella, the two ways people perceive her are so drastically different.  Early in her life and even in present time, she is treated as any woman might be – judged by her beauty (ergo the moniker “the Flower of Pelagia”) and very paternally coddled by the likes of Stachys.  On the other hand, she is feared and revered for her fighting prowess – indicated by the Conqueror title and her aloof and cold exterior exhibited early on in the book.  She clearly hates being treated any other woman and indeed relishes the fact that she is the first or only woman to do X.  Yet when the time comes to use those wiles to advantages, she is willing to make that sacrifice.  How she is perceived now, as the Conqueror, seems to be more comfortable a role to fill, as she garners much more respect this way, but hopefully you’ve noticed throughout the book that she is starting to gradually shift away from that position.  She realizes that perhaps revenge isn’t the greatest cure-all and wonders what comes next in life.  She is changing, evolving and trying to find a new identity.

This search for the new “her” is hopefully the impetus for the breakdown that occurs late in the book.  These are the two roads others expect her to follow – the gentler way of the Flower or the ruthlessness of Isabella the Conqueror.  She wants but cannot imagine any other way than these two roads people are driving her down, and this is the main conflict for her. 

Can you relate to this conflict Christopher, Isabella and other characters experience in The Rose’s Thorn?  There are so many expectations that others place on us based on our race, our upbringing, our schooling, our gender or even our clothes.  I know for myself in the past, I struggled hard with the fact that I was Chinese living in predominately white Florida.  I distinctly remember the times of prejudice I faced and wish that I was born white.  I even grew to hate the other Asian people I saw around me because I waved them all off as boaters.  Quite an ironic circumstance, if you can imagine.  I was fortunate that I moved to Seattle after my sophomore year in high school, and I grew to understand how to function as an Asian American – not quite Asian and not quite American. 

If you are struggling with who you are as a person and the expectations that others have foisted upon you, my encouragement is this.  You do not have to be forced down the road others would have you travel.  Be confident in the person God has lovingly made you, and as long as you find yourself in the center of His will, you have every right to blaze your own path regardless of what other people think.  There’s more than just two roads. 

--Jonathan

Two Roads: Two Meanings Part 1

This is the third in a series of articles that explains the inspirations that led to "The Rose's Thorn."  Warning, there are mild spoilers in this article; so if you want to remain totally unspoiled, please do not read this until you have at least gone 75% through the book.

You may have already noticed that the title includes the tag "A Two Roads Novel."  You might ask what is the importance of that descriptor and what it means.  Obviously part of the reason is to have some indicator that this will be a series of books, Lord willing, and hopefully it sounds cooler than "A Twilight Saga" or something like that.   On the other hand, it's an apt description of the choices the character in "The Rose's Thorn" make.  For both Christopher and Isabella, it symbolizes the two destinations they might have found themselves if they had made the choice to stay or leave and what the implications of that are. 

Perhaps Christopher's regret is most palpable and annoying since he thinks upon that choice quite frequently with the return of Belle.  But isn't that a part of life that we can all relate to?  The what if of decisions made or not made are a guiding principal that shadow my life certainly -- regrets of if I had asked that one girl out, said that thing to a friend that I was too afraid to or even becoming more serious about writing this book ten years ago as opposed to now.  These are the things that can bum me out and drive me to go listen to sad songs to make feel better.

There's a chance you might feel the same regarding the choices you've made in your life.  I hope you understand that I've been there and still am there in some form or another.  Perhaps that's the curse of having an overactive imagination and sensitivity that one of my friends fondly calls me "being a girl."  It's can be downright discouraging to be in that place of regret, but I'm reminded that there is no such thing as coincidence.

Romans 8:28 tells us "we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, according to His purpose."  No matter how much of a wrong way or detour we think we might be, for those who love God, it's going to work out --- and that's what hope is.   It doesn't necessarily need to be a regret because we are right in the center of where we need to be.   Isabella's point of view of her choices, though grim, is helpful because all the choices we make --they make us into the stronger person we are today. 

My encouragement to you -- do not dismay in the circumstances you find yourself in.  Each step you've taken is constantly making you the person you need to be -- and God is leading you somewhere that will be fantastic if you let Him.  Instead of wallowing in your regrets, learn from them and soldier on.  One of the secrets of this books is that no matter which road is chosen, this is where all roads lead.  Next week, we'll touch on the second meaning of "Two Roads."

--Jonathan

Home to Stay

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dl6FZAwCSP4

This is the second in a series of articles that explains the inspirations that led to “The Rose’s Thorn.”

By nature, I’m a very sarcastic and slightly cynical person.  Quite a stretch for those that know me, I’m aware.  However, despite that self-proclaimed description, I’m also quite the hopeless romantic, if that makes any sense.  Love is the thing that binds our lives together – whether it’s in the actual context of being in love, searching for love, lamenting lost love or what not.  I believe in love, and I believe in love as a motivation. 

When it came to categorizing this project, I definitely knew it was going to be of the “fantasy-without-magic-or-elves” variety with hopefully lots of action and suspense, but I’m not ashamed to admit that it is a love story of sorts.  In typical fashion, I cannot call it a romance novel because …well … there is certainly a nasty stigma attached to that tag.  This is where Josh Groban’s “Home to Stay” comes in as an inspiration.

“Home to Stay” is about two lovers apart because the girl needs to go off and explore the world while the boy stays home.  In a bittersweet way, it’s about the determination of the boy to bring the girl back home once the girl has had her fill of adventures. 

There is no happy ending, but it’s hopeful in a powerful way that the fairy tale ending is possible.  Obviously the parallels are obvious comparing my Christopher and Isabella with this song.

It’s clear that the same yearning in “Home to Stay” is exactly what Christopher envisions his reunion with Isabella.  He embodies the hopeless romantic in me that obviously wants the happy ending, but how the story ends is what we don’t know. 

I don’t know if I can ever write a story where the romance is the main subject of the plot, but it has to be there.  “The Rose’s Thorn” could have been a straightforward story about honor, duty and good ol’ fashioned butt kicking, but love makes us do dumb, crazy and brave things.  It makes things more interesting, although it can be hard to balance the two extremes of kicking butt and having a romantic subplot.  Most of the time, it ends up being tacked in like a certain current movie, “The Lone Ranger.”  Hopefully I’ve done the balance some justice. 

So the question remains: what does love have to do in this story?  Obviously quite a bit since it’s so constantly on Christopher’s mind in relations to his connection or lack thereof with Isabella, but hopefully you’ll find that it’s not the only thing on Christopher’s mind.  Love might be a major part of lives, but it’s not the only thing.  There are so many other facets that make us who we are that to narrow it down to love and who we love would severely limit us as persons. 

I hope that you find the effort I put into the aforementioned balance to be satisfying.  It’s not easy being a hopeless romantic cynic, but I’ve put my best foot forward with this book.  Love is magical.  Love is beautiful.  Love is pain.  Love is the worst.  Love is everything.  Love is nothing.  Love is all of these things, but on top of everything else, love is what makes the world go around.  Write your own stories about love, and don’t let anyone else tell you how you should write about love.  (Unless you are infringing upon someone else’s rights, of course.)  

--Jonathan

Left to Pick Up the Pieces

This is the first in a series of articles that will explain the inspirations that led to The Rose’s Thorn.  One of the biggest themes of the book is the idea of what does it mean to be left picking up the pieces after everyone leaves.  Maybe twelve, thirteen years ago, my church seemed to have an exodus of people my age leaving the church:  some to the mission field, some to seminary, some to other churches and some to … whatever.  There was a great burden on me because I was one of the few of my age left to represent our group in the church.  I felt this huge responsibility to stand in the gaps where the outgoing people no longer were in the ministries they served in.  All the while, it seemed like when I checked in with those people who left, their lives seemed to be fuller or better whereas I always stayed the same, in the same situation.

Now all of this may seem very honorable in a loyalty kind-of-way, and rightfully so.  Perhaps there is something very noble in “going down with the ship,” or being the “last man standing,” but it is also very lonely.  Just like anything, there are sacrifices that need to be made if you choose duty over what you want.  There are consequences for being the good guy.  This is where the conceit of Christopher came into being. 

In Christopher, we have the archetype of choosing duty over everything else.  Even today, we have many people who choose this path as well – servicemen, teachers, missionaries, pastors, single parents to name a few.  They give up so much of their time, effort and lives into the greater good despite the inconvenience to them.  What Christopher had to give up was a chance to stay with his love, Isabella, and as we peek into his life ten years after the Bellarian Invasion, he seems to be doing relatively well despite all the self-awareness he possesses.  He’s been successful in helping Pelagia to rebuild and grow, and he seems to getting over Isabella until the news that she’s coming back.  Isn’t that the hardest thing when a specter from your past arrives to remind you of what your life could have been?  That’s a story for another week when we can go over the idea of the two roads that is and might have been.

Here is an encouragement to all of you that find yourself in the position of choosing duty over love, comfort, family or financial stability.  Whether you are in the ministry, choosing a career that will better other people or protecting the freedoms your country has afforded its citizens, your sacrifice is worth it, and do not let anyone else tell you otherwise.  What you do is important, and no matter how bad the regret might be, hold on to the determination that has put you upon this path in the first place. 

What I found to be true is that even though I felt I was alone in the gaps, trying to keep everything together at my church, the truth is that I was never alone.  New people came into the church to fill those responsibilities.  Much like Christopher has Xonor, Apelles, Gerald and others, we never see that God has provided for us and instead are focused on the ME and importance of MY sacrifice.  There are others in the gap with you, if you’d only open your eyes. 

John 15:13 says, “Great love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.”  If I may totally take this passage out of context, but this is the sacrifice that this book honors.  No matter how alone you may feel or how much the doubt creeps in when things aren’t going the right way, you remember your duty. 

--Jonathan

Frank E. Peretti - good luck!

This is the inscription I made my favorite author at the time sign inside my copy of his book, “Prophet.”  Reading that, you’d think I had a talk with Mr. Peretti about how much he inspired me and my aspirations to be a writer, but you’d assume wrong.  No, this was just a request I put on a post-it note that he signed, having no idea what he was wishing me luck for … and this was clear over thirteen years ago when I maybe had only a chapter 1 written and no clear idea where the journey would take me.

You might ask me why I had him write this blatant falsehood in my book.  You might think it strange, and you would probably be correct.  But back then, that was the inspiration I needed to slowly propel myself, motivate myself to write this book – that one day, I could look up on that copy of “Prophet” and know that I had fulfilled that promise to myself and to an unknowing Mr. Peretti. 

Now in 2013, that first step has been taken.  The book is written.  Over 210,000 words to be more precise.  “The Rose’s Thorn” is a reality, though I can scarcely believe it.  Ever since I was in high school, I knew that this is what I wanted to do – to write fiction – just to write, and that day has finally dawned.  It is a milestone that comes with excitement, relief and trepidation, but it is a milestone, nonetheless.  I’m glad you that are able to share in this triumph with me, and I hope that you enjoy this book that has been for so long a pipe dream.  I still have a long way to go until world domination, but it’s a start.

Over the foreseeable Wednesdays, I will be posting articles on my inspiration for writing this book.  I would have you to understand that “The Rose’s Thorn” is the clearest window you will now get into the dreams, hopes and fears that I have because that is what writing is – a way to express the joy and document the torment that happens in this hopelessly romantically cynical heart of mine.  My hope is that my expressed conflicts would help you bear with your own in some little way because we are all trying to figure out who we are and where we are going in this life.  Please feel free to leave comments on my blogs or email me if you have something to say.  They say writing is cathartic for the soul, and I believe it for how might we strive to become better unless we know where it hurts.

Peace and love,

Jonathan