Two months ago, I lost too many crew members in a Gallente initiated ambush. I deal with death everyday; I have learned how to give it closure. 

I got a communication from one of the deceased crew member’s next of kin this morning. It was asking for my assistance with the EVE Intergalactic Bank Customer Service Department. Apparently, they had been billing the dead crew member annual service charges and late fees, and though the outstanding balance was at 0 when she died, it had now accrued a debt with the company. 

I called the EVE Intergalactic Bank (EIB). Here is an actual snippet of that call:

ROC: I’m calling to tell you she died in September.

EIB: The account was never closed and the late fees and charges still apply.

ROC: Maybe you should turn it over to collections.

EIB: Since it is two months past due, it already is in collections.

ROC: So what do you think they’ll do when they find out she’s dead?

EIB: Either report her account to the fraud division or report her to the credit bureau, maybe both.

ROC: Do you think God will be angry with her?

EIB: Excuse me?

ROC: Did you get what I’ve been telling you? The part about her being dead?

EIB: Sir, you’ll have to speak with my supervisor.

Supervisor gets on the phone.

ROC: I’m calling to tell you she died in September.

EIB: The account was never closed and the late fees and charges still apply.

ROC: You mean you want to collect it from her estate?

EIB: (stammering) Are you her lawyer?

ROC: I was her commanding officer. 

Lawyer information given

EIB: Could you transmit a certificate of death?

ROC: Sure.

Locator information given, certificate transmitted.

EIB: Our system isn’t setup for death. I don’t know what more I can do to assist in this matter.

ROC: Well, if you figure it out, great! If not, you could just keep billing her; I don’t think she’ll care.

EIB: Well, the late fees and charges do still apply.

ROC: Would you like her new billing address?

EIB: That might help, yes.

ROC: Muritor Memorial Cemetary, 1249 Cemetary Rd, Mioar, Plot Number 1049.

EIB: Sir, that’s a cemetary!

ROC: Well what the FUCK do you do with dead people on your planet?

Click

Out of character again today; something I do try to avoid.

It has been asked of me by some of my audience to do a brief explanation of my writing process. I would like to thank my readers once again for their continued support. I do write primarily for myself, but it brings me joy to know that others appreciate the efforts made.

STEP #1: Listen to the Muse, always

Our own lives are our greatest adventures. That is my belief, and I have learned that any fictional projection of ourselves is still just that, ourselves. Whether it’s writing, MMOs, acting in a play, or another outlet, we reference very real experiences and emotions to help define the role we are in. 

My writing is based on three things: My own life experience, my own dark thoughts based on real life experiences, and complete fantasy based on countless decades of an overindulgence in science fiction.

Each and every day some interesting thought will enter my mind, whether it’s from external stimuli, or a product of my own experiences and imagination. Seize those moments. They are the source of a great many tales.

Step #2: The Right Tools

In this day and age it is unacceptable to me to say “I wish I had written that thought down.” Information is accessible from virtually anywhere. For me, I have an iPhone 3G. I have the WordPress application installed that basically allows me to write a draft from anywhere I am. As some of you may have gathered, I also commute to and from work, about 1 hour each direction. This gives me ample opportunity to write daily.

Step #3: The Snowflake Method

I use a modified version of the Snowflake Method. I do encourage you to read the link before continuing on with this post. Please.

So, let’s give an example. 

I’m on the train, commuting. I see something outside the window, or overhear a conversation, or encounter someone who annoys or interests me, and the muse springs forth an idea.

I open my iPhone, launch the WordPress authoring application, and get to work.

My ideas are usually summed up in 1 – 4 sentences, but there is no limit; go with your muse.

1. What is the keyphrase of the story? 
2. What did I learn from it?
3. How did I get there, as in, how do I get myself involved in the story.
4. How do I apply it to EVE Online and Roc Wieler (when writing for this blog).

These sentences can be in any order, and don’t have to be chronological. Sometimes mixing it up adds more variety and interest to the story, as well as furthering your skills as a writer. Writing the middle first, for example, might spark new ideas in the muse as you fill in the rest, often resulting in a more enjoyable finished piece.

Step #4: Speed Writing

So we have our idea. We’ve jotted down our key sentences. Now we use the snowflake method to fill them in. Add your own vulnerabilities. Add personal flare. Keep in mind the who, what, when, where, why and how we all learned in school, as well as sight, sound, touch, taste, smell and that elusive sixth sense, or whatever you want to name it.

Edit as much as you want at this stage. Re-arrange things where you think needed, correct grammar, expand your vocabulary, whatever you think needs done.

Just remember, once you hit submit, that’s it, you’re done; no going back.

Step #5: Always leave them wanting more

It is imperative, and I cannot stress it enough, always leave them wanting more. Any writer will tell you to resolve your story. I agree wholeheartedly. But I also think it’s equally important, if not moreso, to introduce a teaser; something to make them want to keep reading your work. So always be conscious of that when you write. What could the twist ending potentially be?

You’ll also find that by doing this, you leave yourself in a good position for further writing in the future.

And that’s pretty much it. Reviewing it now it doesn’t seem that impressive to me. I wish I had something more awe inspiring and insightful to offer, but it is what it is.

—

The Lecture

I hated giving speeches; it made my stomach knot with gas, I thought to myself as I addressed the group before me. That’s the last thing I need right now, to start worrying about passing wind. They had gathered to hear me give a “pep speech” for the Republic. I declined repeatedly, but when you’re invited by the Prime Minister himself, you learn they don’t take no for an answer.

It was deftly quiet. Nobody even blinked. I could hear my heart in my ears. It was oddly comforting, yet mocking, but at least assured me I hadn’t gone deaf. I felt a cold bead of sweat work its way down my cheek bone. I wanted to wipe it; its itch was maddening me. I needed to finish and get out of here before I lost it. I hated crowds. But duty was duty.

I still didn’t know why they chose me. Sure, I was aware of the commercials that were still continually played on billboards across the galaxy, but there were dozens of “heroes” in this war much better suited to public speaking than I. Sometimes I wondered if it was all one big joke, and I was the only one not in on it. 

I heard a brief “ahem” to my left, and chanced a quick glance that direction to see the Prime Minister glaring at me, gesturing me to get on with it. He was seated with political dignataries, and some de facto clan leaders, all of them looking anxiously either at me, or at each other. I realized all my inner musings were only increasing the incredibly uncomfortable silence already omnipresent.

I turned my focus to the cluster of microphones affixed to the pulpit before me. “Thank you Pr…” I began, only to hear the piercing screech of audio feedback in the microphones. Some of the audience reacted as well, piling more anxiety on me; like I wasn’t feeling the pressure enough already. I started again, a little more quietly this time. “Thank you, Prime Minister. I’m not one for words…” 

“Speak up!” Some random voice shouted, illiciting subdued laughter from a portion of the crowd. Easy to talk trash when it’s not you. I wagered things would be very different were I to meet the heckler face to face, alone in a dark pub. My stomach was in knots. I thought I might vomit, or pass out from the stress.

I summoned my courage. Here I was, a fleet commander for the Tribal Liberation Force, a killer of thousands of our enemy, yet I couldn’t talk to a crowd? Screw that. This wasn’t about me after all. It was about the Republic I believed in; about the freedom of our people; about the role that each and every one of us must take to shape the future we desired; the future we were entitled to.

It was time to speak.

A small smirk crept onto my face as I inhaled deeply. It was going to be a speech they would never forget.