Before I begin, I'd like to point out that it is rather ridiculous to come up with a title before the story. The story itself is normally created, before a witty title can be placed on it. Welp, I chose to make the title, and, hindsight being what it is, it is probably going to be irrelevant to the post.
Kristi and I talked a lot the past few days on realistic goals for ourselves. We are in a wonderful place right now where money isn't tight, that we haven't bitten off more than we can chew yet like everyone (including myself) does. We have the ability to save money, and we are going to try our hardest to do so. We talked about Cardisia, outlining some realistic things that we'll have to do for it, sacrifices we may need to make in order to make it a success, and goals that need to be accomplished before we take it to the next level. It was all very serious talk that I didn't enjoy (because I'm an immature brat), but when we got to talking, it was exciting I have that wonderful dream of "some day" and then suddenly it's like, "not some day, but rather soon" I apologize that this is vague, I wish I could elaborate and not bore you with business-y related things, but I assure you, you would be bored.
I thought I had a lot of stuff to say until I started writing. I honestly don't. I mean,.. I have a story that is odd for some, but I found it rather clever.
So, I am a big fan of Roosterteeth, They have a social Media platform that only works well enough, and random people can comment here and there. I've started a few discussions, made some enemies, had a few arguments, made some friends. It's a weird platform where they don't allow you to give too much information away, which I personally like.
That being said, there is this person on there, who wrote a simple comment saying, "Someone tell me a story." that was four days prior to me seeing it, but no one had commented her back.
So I replied, "What kind of story?"
A day later she wrote to me, "Any kind of story."
It was at that point, ladies and gentlemen, where I cracked my knuckles, stretched the fingers, and prepared to write the novella of a lifetime! Only I didn't. That's a lie, I simply read over one of my short stories that I've written, about a page and a half, copied and pasted it. It is about three Lords of their house who choose not to bow to the new king, thus resulting in their inevitable death. I don't write their death, because a cliff hanger is the best part, it allows the reader to think of the different possibilities, and to want more. This is the ending quote from of of my three heroes, “I don’t think you understand us Commander,” Rowan looked at his comrades to his left and right, “We have chosen to accept death over life in service to your new King and we also decided to bring as many men who serve him to the afterlife with us. The next move is yours.”
And I left it at that. I thought at the very least, she'll have something to read. Maybe she'll enjoy it, Maybe give her something to thing about, let her pick her own ending. And... She did pick her own ending. To my unsuspecting surprise She wrote roughly a page of the battle that my three heroes had. Where the arrows soared, the swords clashed, and the blood spilled. And then, she left it on a cliffhanger. It's crazy weird how I thought nothing of it, it was practice to me, but she then went ahead and thought it was worthy enough of another page and a half. Is it weird to feel... honored? Not to mention, I feel an obligation to continue the story with this stranger, who has decided to continue my unfinished story, cause she left it at a cliffhanger as well. It is just a strange compliment. A way to say, "I would like more." by contributing some yourself.
Thinking about it some more, I had this feeling similarly to the beginning of Cardisia, When the Artists of my group delivered more artwork and edits than I thought possible. I enjoy this feeling.
Now... About Cardisia you ask.
There are no serious updates on it, except that I have reworked the story from the ground up so it 10 times better with Kristi editing it. But something strange has happened to me in the past 24 hours, in which I was trying to say above (with all the vagueness) that I couldn't quite figure out until I started organizing my thoughts through writing this.
Cardisia is no longer just a dream. It is no longer "just a project." It is work. It is my second Job. It is the internship of a job of a lifetime. It is a struggle to deal with the issues at hand, it is a struggle to focus and not just be "the writer" of a fun project. I hate the work needed to be put into it sometimes.... Hates a strong word. But dislike. I dislike the work I need to put into it sometimes. But I still do. I am not the writer, but the creator. Do we need something sketched? I suck at drawing, but I can promise you I've drawn 10 images recently. Traced several others to sharpen them up (the originals were quite small). Every time an artist needs help with how to show something on a comic-panel platform, I'm sketching it up as best I can, and sending it on its way with a script, idea, and character outlines. I am constantly in need of more of me to do what I need to do. But deep down I love it. I won't let it go. It's soon, my friends. Very soon.
"So one vote to leave, and one to stay." Rowan sighed. "What should we do?" - Ending of the end of a story of three heroes.