Ryan Spires

Sometimes the grind wears on you and the machine breaks down. My morning writing routine felt stagnant as I lost interest in rewriting Alchemist and the new manuscript floated away from me. I watched it get farther out of my grasp, but let it go without much more than a "meh". I stopped writing. I didn't stop thinking about writing, though. Poignant vignettes played out in my head. I still derived inspiration from random sources. The brain was receptive. I haven't returned full form from my hiatus, but I did manage to crank out a short story. It's nothing glorious. It's rough, but I hope you can turn it over in your hands and maybe capture a glimmer or two. I had fun writing it and isn't that half the battle? I hope you enjoy. A Perfect Game The beeps and wheezing of the machines faded into the background as Rory sunk farther into the hospital pillow and took his last ragged breath. The first thing that emanated from oblivion was a yea...

The fantasy writing community has evolved into a more socially aware creature, promoting diversity both in authors and the substance of the story. No longer will the two-dimensional fainting heroine be rescued by the hero without the author being called out for it.  It's a positive thing to recognize these embedded falsehoods that nefariously leak into our writing from our subconscious. But, this spotlight does scare me a little. Well, more like intimidate. If you don't include every group (gender, race, age, sexual orientation,  religion, disability, etc), then it's a clear strike. How could you ignore X group? But, if you only have one example of that group, then you run the risk of a representation problem. Now that character is the sole representation of that group and everything they do unfairly reflects upon that group. This, of course happens in real life too. What's the solution then? This is obviously an exaggeration, but it sounds like in order to cons...

Whittling a first draft into something resembling a coherent story is tedious but ultimately an enjoyable process. It's easier to work with the words, transforming them into something better, than staring at the perfect vacuum of a blank page. One of my favorite little games is to find the silly, obvious, or unintended errors. Self depreciating one's work is a time honored tradition and the first draft offers up the most opportunity. Here are some of my recent gems I have come across. Hegge grabbed a rock in her hand. -Just in the case the reader would assume she grabbed it with the crook of her arm, I helped them out. Tell don't show! Or wait, was it show don't tell? “The university doesn’t teach that level of mathematics, my dear pip.” Trude stifled a song.   - Yawn. Song. Whatever! You know what I meant. Probably.   "No." She shook her heard. -Senses can be shaken right?    The Altum pursed her lisps -She was, uh, very self consciou...

Hello there! It's been awhile. I haven't had a burst of inspiration for a blog topic for some time, and I didn't want to dial it in. Hence the silence. I might pick up the pace a bit in a month or so. Until then here is a brief update on the writing. I had the opportunity to alpha/beta read a couple of novel length manuscripts for friends and provide feedback. That's a glorious experience, being among the first set of eyes on the finished draft, and to help shape, in a small way, the course it may take. Not to mention that it's also a beautiful way to encourage more art in the world and to sharpen my own skills. That provided me a brief and needed respite from editing Alchemist. As a recap I got that back from the editor with rewrite scribbled all over it early in 2016. I got about halfway through the rewrite and I was burned out on the book. It's standing near the back of the room, clearing its throat at me, but I'm going to keep ignoring it for now. A ...

Chapter 4 “Roger.” Her voice penetrated his light sleep and bolted him out of bed. He snapped on the light, his chest heaved up and down. Maddie looked up at him, her blue eyes clear and focused. “Roger.” Her voice sharp and urgent. He couldn’t move or speak. Her eyes darted around the room in a panic before dulling over, and the old Maddie faded like a ghost in the night. “Maddie,” Roger croaked. He leaned over and grabbed her shoulders. She looked up with a sleepy expression. She smacked her lips a couple of times and continued to stare at him. Had she not spoken his name a second time he might have convinced himself it had just been a dream. The second time, he possessed his faculties and had been looking right at her. Perhaps even more astonishing, remained the fact that her old self had peered up at him from those blue eyes. She had looked frightened, as if snapping awake from a nightmare. She closed her eyes. Roger snapped off the light an...

Chapter Three Roger finished the email to his boss and read it over a few times before hitting the send button. The light hum of the air system and clicking keyboards provided the soundtrack of his typical weekday. He stood up in his cube and blinked a few times. It had been a couple of hours since he last moved and his body reminded him that it liked to change position every once in a while. He walked around the corner to Chrissy’s cube. Her long legs were crossed under the desk and she wore a look of concentration as she typed away. Roger glanced down at her ample chest, forced his gaze back up, and cleared his throat. Chrissy looked up with a startled expression that turned into a genuine smile parting her thick lips. “Hey, Roger.” He looked at her pursed lips for a moment. “Never got a chance to ask how your weekend was.” She crossed her legs towards him. “It was alright. I drove up north to my parent’s cabin and spent most of it up there. How about you?” R...

For a summer in college I worked at a home for developmentally disabled adults. They had four residents and only one of them was capable of speech. It was difficult to work with them, knowing this was the limit of their abilities and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. I would occasionally run into a person that would resemble one of my boys and I would think, this is what Roger would look like and be doing if his brain hadn't been damaged It could happen to any of us. Our brains are amazing but delicate things. I wanted to explore the concept of losing someone close to brain damage and poking at the idea of what people would be willing to risk and lose to gain something of the person back.  That's the spark that led me to write this short story titled Maddie, which I will put out here in three parts.  I put some bits of the four residents into Maddie. In a very small way, it's my tribute to them and their struggles.  As a warning, it's a rough...