Progress Report – Camp NaNo Comes to an End

April has been a busy writing month for me, with hobby projects and YouTube work competing with my writing time. However, I’ve found the pace I need to finish in this last stretch of days before the competition ends.

I’m currently sitting at 37,000 words, meaning I have about 4,000 to write each day to be finished on time. That said, I have a clear outline and plan as to what comes next, and the words are flying onto the page much faster than usual. Barring some blow-up elsewhere in life between now and then, I’m almost certain that I will make the word total.

As this winds down, though, I’m also coming to the realization that I’m reaching the point in the publishing quest that is most difficult for me personally. After one quick round of edits to this new writing, which will take a day or two at most, I’m going to be moving on to an agent search. So many people have difficulties at this stage, and their manuscript remains just that because they’re unable to find their niche in selling the book.

I’m confident in my writing; I’ve put hundreds and hundreds of hours into completing this thing, along with several revisions and some difficult cutting processes. All that remains is to polish my query letter until it shines, and then I will be on my way. I expect that process to begin in the second week of May.

Time will tell!

Poem – One Chance

I have another “Randall Madden Original” for everyone this week. I’ve been reminded this week that things can end at any point, and that chasing after the financial to the exclusion of all else leaves us as little more than slaves.

As well as my words will allow, here is a poem on the subject.

One Chance

This world is not a circle

One day, it too, will end

Sun’s fire, or God’s Judgment

It’s fate simply won’t bend

And yet we scurry onward

Seek progress for its own sake

While love is growing colder

And real is becoming fake

Arts are pushed aside

No time for them, you see

We’ve got to make more money

Golden chains, no longer free

Yet willingly, necks are offered

Into financial stocks

They rage and pull to free themselves

But down have slammed the locks

So there they stand in courtyard

All our people, village fools

They call for one to free them

Yet those free all know the rules

For those who dance are poorer

Yet have the heart to leap

For their necks aren’t overburdened

And their time’s their own to keep

So the rich-robed, in chains, languish

While the ragged remnant dance

So choose gold bonds, or happy rags

For you only get one chance.

Randall Madden

April 17, 2015

Poem – On the plains of Picardy

I’ve been reading The Somme: Heroism and Horror in the First World War this week. It is a book penned by Martin Gilbert, and discusses the appalling loss of human life during the Somme campaign of World War I. Throughout, Mr. Gilbert discusses the effect it had on the troops, and showcases some of the excellent poetry that was written throughout.

One of the most human elements of this war for me came in the form of the poetry that was written. If you’ve never looked at it, you’re truly missing out on some thought-provoking pieces on the state of man, and how much harm we’re capable of doing to one another. The piece I selected to share with you today was written by Captain Hugh Stewart Smith, and was found in his pocket after he was slain in the fighting.

On the plains of Picardy

Lay a soldier, dying

Gallantly, with soul still free

Spite the rough world’s trying.

Came the Angel who keeps guard

When the fight has drifted,

‘What would you for your reward

When the clouds have lifted?’

Then the soldier through the mist

Heard the voice and rested

As a man who sees his home

When the hill is breasted –

This his answer and I vow

Nothing could be fitter –

Give me peace, a dog, a friend

And a glass of bitter!

Captain Hugh Stewart Smith

1916

Poem – Between the Silence

Sometimes, things don’t go as planned in life. We lose those we love, and we’re left only with the memories. Though they might be a place of comfort, they are often imperfect, and they tragically fade with time.

This poem was built around the idea of those memories. It isn’t necessarily a happy piece, but it is one of the truest pieces I’ve ever made, and I relate to it in a way that I cannot explain. I hope you all enjoy it, and get half as much of an experience as I had writing it.

Between the Silence

You lived here once before

When there was so much time to kill

Now you dwell between the silence

And I know you are there still

When things become too loud

You’re impossible to see

Then the silence comes once more

And you’re waiting there for me

The quiet blinds my senses

And leaves me lost within

The tranquil, sighing hollows

Where I see your face again

With time the space there narrows

How I wish that it could last!

But the roar becomes a mutter

And too soon, the space has passed

With practice, could I find it?

Is it mind, or strength, or will?

You remain there in the silence

And I know you are there still.

Randall Madden

April 4, 2015