I find most sports boring, if not downright abhorrent (people shell out insane funds to watch other people make millions of dollars playing a game).

But… I have a love affair with MMA.

The one thing I truly picked up and retained from my husband, even after the divorce, was an appreciation fighting with the hands and feet using a combination of the bazillion varieties. There’s something very primal and very stirring about watching these sportsman throw down with each other

Very little expensive gear is involved (thin gloves to protect the knuckles, occasional shin guards, a mouth guard for those teeth) and therefore little to stand in the way of every punch and kick thrown (known in the industry as ‘strikes’).  People get hurt.  All of the time.  I was watching during the infamous Silva vs. Weidman rematch -UFC 168, for the belt- when Weidman leg-checked Silva’s strike and it sheared Silva’s tibia. Everyone at the restaurant that night got to see the 18 million replays from EVERY angle showing Anderson Silva’s leg wobbling like it belonged to a rubber doll. I swear, 18 million. Train wreck, folks. Horrifying, but you can’t look away.

One of the other reasons I love MMA are the many professionals throughout. I don’t mean professional as in ‘getting paid’ but in ‘I’m going to pummel your ass into a thin red paste, but as soon as that buzzer goes off, I’m going to shake your hand and congratulate you on a good fight’ kind of professional.  What goes on in the Octagon stays in the Octagon. Clay Guida is one of my faves for this reason, and he would definitely be one of the ones I would wish to hang out with. (Some on the other hand, like Nick Diaz, Jason Miller and War Machine are pricks who, inside and outside, either antagonized one another or committed heinous crimes.  Not cool for the sport guys.  Not cool at all.)  I love (to hate) Chael Sonnen only because he’s the sport’s version of the fisherman with tall tales. Instead of letting his own considerable skills speak for themselves (he was one of the few to give the then-undefeated Anderson Silva a run for his money), he goes around touting himself as the actual champion because he almost brought “The Spider” down. (That part is great, too. They all have nicknames.)  Watching Sonnen fight is always a pleasure, because either I get to see him use his amazing fighting prowess and take his opponent down, or I get to watch someone kick his ass.

My other pet peeve is when they brought two women into the fighting (remaining nameless here, as they do not need the publicity).  The idiot who arranged the fights and the producers played up the Reality-TV bullshit drama of it both of as catty bitches who were gonna “kick each others’ ass” truly soured the sport.  Leave that petty crap on Jerry Springer where it belongs.  Now that this TUF crap is out, there are COMPLETELY taking the sport in the wrong direction, selling it on the sex angle instead of a true exposition and merit of their skills.  It will become a farce just as much as women gladiators (the “gladiatrix“) were in Roman times.  Cheap amusement at the expense of the women involved, all the while trying to sell them as legitimate.  It is a true shame, because a lot of the women kick serious ass, but unfortunately the size of their attitudes or how they look in bikinis will completely override any fighting prowess.  Spectacle.

I don’t go to watch all of the fights; that would get far too pricey and I would always be up past my bedtime.  I pick and choose the matches with my faves and occasionally, if none of my guys are going to show up on the card for awhile, I’ll check out some new and interesting faces.

The bottom line is, my interests inform my writing – sometimes a lot, sometimes just a little, but on occasion, the interest itself gives me an idea that Just. Won’t. Leave. Me. Alone.  And so, I must write, in order to get it out there.  And when that idea was Ennid the Havoc, he kept locking me up in a rear naked choke, and I finally tapped out and gave him his stories.

Oh, and Joe Rogan… shut up!

 

A little background information:

Royce Gracie essentially started the UFC as a coming-out party for his new style of fighting, Brazilian Ju-Jitsu, and it’s been gaining even more momentum.

The top UFC fighter only makes around $1 million a year, and that includes all of the product endorsements.

The octagon was used to differentiate it from all the other martial sports out there, to introduce it as something new and truly unique.

Working on one of my stories much longer than I anticipated, but that dreaded black hole called revision has sucked some of my wordcount into its impossible-to-break grasp.

BUT…

(And anyone who reads knows that the interesting twists come after the word “but”)

I have been working on the blurb. It’s a nice little tool –sorry if the title of this post threw you off– to really hone the story down to its essence.

So I present to you the blurb for your reading pleasure, and certainly, for your tidbits of sage advice:

The world quaked in chaos. Landbound kingdoms waged war over the precious few resources found among the small continents and scattered islands. Pirate fleets swarmed the oceans, pillaging trade vessels and sinking one another as they vied to command the waters. Powers angelic and demonic performed their dances martial just beyond the veil of human sight.

Ennid the Havoc couldn’t care less about any of that.

Three things drove him onward – his mare, his next meal, and his next match. In that order.

He roamed from town to town, sampling the wares and finding someone brave enough to challenge him for the thrill of the fight (and a share of the purse). But when a couple of kids knock him from the saddle and steal K’zirra (that’s the mare), he follows them to a town lacking not only coin enough to buy her back, but nary a young man to fight.

In fact, no young men at all walked among them.

Only when an exotic woman invites Ennid into her world and tasks him with retrieving a rare gemstone does he hope to earn his fortune, buy back his horse and leave the town.

But first… first he must face the Beast.

Oh, and I have updated the cover, again…

Ennid BotB Cover

So… go for it!

trneff:

Sometimes that first step away from the “normal” is terrifying, but nothing can be so rewarding as chasing – and achieving! – your dreams.

Originally posted on Don Charisma:


«Don’t be afraid of the space between your dreams and reality. If you can dream it, you can make it so.»

– Belva Davis


DonCharisma.com-logo-4 Charisma quotes are sponsored by DonCharisma.com – you dream it we built it … because – “anything is possible with Charisma”

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I often admit how nerdy I am. I used to read dictionaries for fun, and pored over the long list of definitions. Sometimes the words I found inspired an idea, and I simply had to find a way to work “limn” into a scene*.

In a rush to get into writing mode, however, I have to remind myself that some words bring to light the baggage all of us carry.

To illustrate: I’ve got lots of friends over for a party, and I happen to say “I gotta fix this table” loud enough for everyone to hear. My accountant friend’s brain jumps immediately to Excel and he starts thinking of different formulae and conditional formatting. My geologist friend concocts his argument over what part of the ecological niche we need to look at first. My woodworking enthusiast bud runs to his truck and grabs his toolbox and promptly returns to solve the problem of the wobbly furniture. Three people, same word evoking three different ideas.

The right word can make or break the tone of the scene, such as creating humor in what should be horror. No writer can predict very reader’s reaction, and it’s not worth the writing paralysis to analyze every word, but it’s worth an extra moment DURING REVISION to consider just the right word. And consult a dictionary.

*For your convenience, “limn” isn’t an appendage attached to the human body or a tree. That’s “limb”. The word I found is an outline in sharp detail. I used it in The Falconer and the Wolf, in case you were wondering, and I’m sure to use it again.

Preparedness is like Fight Club.

The first rule of Fight Club is you don’t talk about Fight Club.

Advertising what you do and how you do to friends and neighbors is an invitation to have “guests” over if things go downhill. Telling the nation, (despite the seeming anonymity of being in a big country and “hard to find”) is sheer idiocy.

Has anyone ever seen the episode of the Twilight Zone episode “The Shelter”? The show may have been science fiction (social fiction), but the psychology is true enough. You will become a target if you advertise.

Bottom line, don’t talk about Fight Club.

It may be just my age, but every time I hear “Preppers” I think of “Preppies”.

Here’s the trailer that’s got me pumped: Mad Max: Fury Road.

Anyone who’s followed me for any length of time knows that my obsession with the post-apocalypse began decades ago with Wasteland and Mad Max. When the announcement that Fury Road was underway, I grew unbelievably excited. Then that excitement waned when there were all kinds of setbacks, talks about it being done as anime (yeep!!!) and eventually it faded back into obscurity, and a near non-existence in my brain.

Until now. Wow.

I’d heard Tom Hardy was taking the role of Max, and I reacted with my customary “meh.” Then I saw the trailer and the poster and couldn’t be happier that they are keeping Max’s signature look. Charlize Theron’s character appears to be the “victim” of George Miller’s insistence that someone sport a medical prosthesis, with her robo-hand, and of course the customary reappearance of a previous cast member in a different role made me chuckle.*

This marks a very rare event for me personally, as I have been extremely underwhelmed by movies in general, but I’m actually excited to see this one, despite the silly girls in virginal white. One friend remarked he hopes he doesn’t see any asses hanging out of chaps, though. My thought is that it’s going to get much, much weirder than that.

But… It’s about time. The Zombie Apocalypse has worn thinner than a cotton t- shirt on a fifty-year old carcass. Time for Max to get back out there and kick some ass.

If you’re a fan of post-apoc fiction, tired of the zombies, check out Umbra: A Post-Apocalyptic Mystery. Already available for Kindle and coming soon to other platforms near you. I promise, no zombies.

*They are:
Max Fairchild as Benno Swaisey (MM) then Broken Victim (TRW)

Bruce Spence as The Gyro Captain (TRW) then Jedediah the Pilot (MMBT) (although there have been long-standing debates that he IS the same character, and some inconsistencies in his behavior keep that debate alive).

Hugh Keays-Byrne as the Toecutter (MM) and now Immortan Joe (MMFR)

Short post here.

Working on The Adventures of Ennid the Havoc: Belly of the Beast. I anticipate unleashing the Beast early next month. I’m also trying to run it through the Smashwords wringer in order to release it to as many platforms as possible for all of my readers.

Back to the keyboard…