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Into the shallow end of the talent pool

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Photo credit, Getty Images. Unsplash license.

I’m not in a position to review a book for you tonight. Instead, I am reduced to talking about what I’ve been doing. I used to do this all the time, but personal blogging doesn’t seem to be “a thing” anymore. (And with good reason, no doubt, considering the world we live in. I’ll try to avoid specifics.)

I can announce to you that I was accepted, last Thursday (as I recall) as a book narrator on Amazon ACX. ACX is a sort of hub, where authors and narrators can find one another, make deals, and launch projects. I read a book on how to get involved with ACX, and I watched hours of videos on how to work with it. Then I jumped through some procedural hoops to finally qualify for my space in the system.

I had already poked around in ACX from the author side, looking idly to see if I could find a genuine Irishman to narrate my Erling books. One of the options for payment is percentage of royalties, and I figured if I could find one who’d take that, it might be worth doing.

That didn’t work out. Turns out (as I should have guessed) that you actually need prospects of earning some kind of decent royalties before you can ask anybody to spend hours in a sound booth in hopes of a piece of the action.

But now I’m in as a narrator. The skills I learned narrating Troll Valley can now (I hope) start paying off. (TV has, I’ll admit, certain flaws. I think I’ve learned something from my mistakes.)

There’s a database in which you can search for projects where Rights Holders (RH’s, as we professionals call them) have posted openings for auditions. You download a short printed excerpt, record your best performance of it, and upload the file for review.

I have posted 4 auditions so far. One a day, more or less. I intend to continue that strategy until somebody bites or I have a stroke.

My subtle strategy is to start at the bottom. Low paying, short books, so I can get my feet wet. Dull topics that nobody else wants. My concern at this point is not to get rich, but to get started, and to supplement my retirement income. I don’t need a lot. I didn’t make a lot doing translations, but it made all the difference in my income.

(Political note: The state of Minnesota is now extracting a larger deduction from my miniscule [well south of $500] monthly IRA distribution. Way to go, stickin’ it to the rich, Governor Tim!)

Most of the projects I’ve auditioned for have been sitting open for weeks or months. I suspect most of the RH’s have lost interest altogether, and I’m shouting into the wind. But you’ve got to start somewhere.

And that’s where I am.

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Viewing report: ‘The Pendragon Cycle: The Rise of the Merlin

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As you’re likely aware, The Pendragon Cycle: The Rise of the Merlin, based on Stephen Lawhead’s Arthurian novel series, is now available on Amazon Prime. I am watching, and am impressed. This is high-quality filmmaking. I tend to watch movies and miniseries with a skeptical eye, but I honestly didn’t have a single moment where I thought, “They’re cutting corners here.”

I have a conflicted relationship (wholly in my imagination) with author Stephen Lawhead. When I set out to write my Erling saga, I looked around for a Christian novelist who was doing the same sort of thing, and Stephen was all I found. (There may have been others; there was no internet at the time. All I knew was the books I saw in bookstores.) The career I dreamed of involved my gradual advance into parity with him. In my imagination, I’ve been engaged in a zero-sum competition with him every since, and he’s got all the marbles.

There’s a kind of villainous character who shows up now and then in movies and TV shows. I can’t think of an example offhand, but I’m sure you’ve seen such characters. This villain is a small, unprepossessing man, and he’s obsessed with somebody else’s success. “He stole everything from me!” this villain will say. “All that money he’s got, all that acclaim! It should have been mine! I’m the real genius! He stole everything from me!” And then he goes on to describe his diabolical plan to blow up a city, or something.

I’m a little like that guy in regard to Lawhead. I grudgingly admit he was doing it before I did, and I can’t deny he did it (and does it) well. He deserves his success. I have some quibbles with some of his books, but he’s a fine author.

My envy, in fact, is purely envy. It has no rational foundation at all.

Does that mean I won’t urge you to watch The Rise of the Merlin?

Not at all. Please watch it. Recommend it to your friends. Run those viewer numbers up, so there’ll be a second season.

Maybe then the film industry will realize the world is hungry for Christian historical fantasy. And they’ll find me. And I’ll get that movie deal I’ve been dreaming of.

And, oh yes, I work cheaper than Lawhead…

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R.I.P. King Harald V

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I’m kind of tired of posting about my reading of Don Quixote, and I think you may be too. Tonight something else has come up, though I can’t say I’m happy about it. King Harald V of Norway is dead.

If you watched Atlantic Crossing, the PBS-broadcast Norwegian miniseries I helped translate, you may recall Crown Prince Olaf’s and Princess Martha’s little boy. That was Harald. He achieved several historical distinctions – he was the first Norwegian prince to be born in the country since the 14th Century (due to the unions with Denmark and later with Sweden, which we like to skip over). He was the last European monarch to have lived during World War II. He was also Norway’s longest-living king.

He had broken tradition by insisting, against considerable family pressure, on marrying a commoner, Sonja Haraldsen. Since the tradition among European royalty has always been to marry cousins (Harald’s parents were first cousins), I have to think that was a wise innovation.

I saw him once, from a distance. I was living in Florida when the Norway pavilion at Epcot Center had its grand opening, and I decided to be there. I was some distance away in the crowd when he and Crown Princess Sonja came out of the building, escorted by Mickey Mouse and Goofy in a Viking costume (to Disney’s credit, there were no horns on the helmet). Crown Prince Harald (his father was still alive at the time) gave a short address.

His health had been failing for some time, and his death was not unexpected. He is succeeded by his son Haakon VIII. My condolences to the people of Norway.

Bookselling, Uncategorized

Post-event report: The Red River Valley Renaissance Faire

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This is not the Red River Valley Renaissance Faire. I didn’t get a picture there. This is the Viking Age Club of Minnesota at the very last Norsk Høstfest in Minot, ND last year. Our turnout in Fargo last weekend was considerably smaller.

I am back, unscathed (though more than a little stiff and sore) from the Red River Valley Renaissance Faire in Fargo. It was a good event, and I feel each and every one of my multitudinous years.

The faire was impressive. One always compares these things to the Minnesota Renaissance Festival in Chanhassen, which boasts permanent buildings on a large site. This Fargo operation is much smaller, and repurposes some of the buildings of the North Dakota State Fair, along with pre-fab, disassemblable constructions of their own, on top of all the tents of the participants (like your humble servant). We Vikings had a space all our own in one corner of the precincts, and we were quite happy and visible there.

The weather was warm, but not uncomfortably hot. The big problem was the legendary North Dakota wind, which tended to lift my awning/shade off its center pole, so that I finally gave up using that pole, and learned to love the low ceiling.

Book sales were good. Saturday was the best day – business started slow, but picked up in the afternoon. More than one person looked at my books, promised to come back and buy later – and actually did so, which doesn’t often happen. I went from worrying that I’d have no sales to wondering if I’d run out of some books. Which did not occur, but it’s a good problem to have to worry about.

For a smaller Renaissance faire, this one was memorable. Near us was a display of raptors, tended by a pair of falconers – they had red-tailed hawks, several kinds of owls, and even a turkey vulture. (Call me prejudiced, but I will never love turkey vultures.) Further down the line was an exotic menagerie, featuring a camel, an albino wallaby, and otters. (So I heard; I didn’t spring for the entrance fee.) Gymnasts worked a high trapeze. I ate a corn dog each day – I don’t often get to eat “fair food.”

Saturday was busier than Sunday, but I sold a good number of books overall. Got to watch the diverse cavalcade of humankind living out its fantasies with various levels of success. Had a few good conversations. Benefited, once again, from the hard work of younger Vikings for my setup and takedown. Didn’t get home till after midnight last night.

I’m told they want us back next year. I’ll happily return.

If my old legs can still walk a year from now.

Bookselling, Uncategorized

Personal appearance alert

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In case you’re in the Fargo, North Dakota area this weekend, the Vikings and I will be at the Red River Valley Renaissance Faire. The Renaissance is not strictly our temporal bailiwick, but we’ll plunder wherever we’re welcomed.

I shall have books to sell, and to sign. Pray for my car.

Authors, Publishing, Reading, Religion, Uncategorized

A day trip, and historical meditations

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I shall tell you the tale of my adventures last Friday. I was part of a group of members of the Georg Sverdrup Society, and we went to visit a seminary not our own.

I think I won’t mention the name of this seminary, though there’ll be enough clues to work it out, if anybody cares to. It is an impressive cluster of buildings on an impressive campus, with a  history going back to the 1870s. However, the church body it serves, which I generally refer to here as the Very Large Lutheran Church Body That Shall Remain Nameless, finds itself now unable to support the institution’s real estate, so the property is being sold. The seminary will continue, but in more modest quarters.

Because of this approaching change, our society president arranged a visit. It would allow us to view the buildings, the library (now being packed up) and the archives (soon to be packed up). We got to see a number of interesting items on display. Below is a copy of Martin Luther’s death mask, with matching hands (his right one swollen and cramped from much writing). Luther was a man who liked his carbohydrates:

There was also the legendary bust of Hans Nielsen Hauge, the Norwegian lay evangelist about whom I’ve written a lot on this blog. I had the pleasure of informing those present that this bust is not actually a portrait, but the product of an artist’s imagination, originally carved in wood for a ship’s figurehead.

Our guide was very cordial, so nobody mentioned the well-attested fact that seminary students have a tradition of holding a beer bash on Hauge’s birthday, with the bust present, in order to demonstrate their contempt for the man and his movement.

We also got to visit Old Muskego Church:

Old Muskego Church from Muskego, Wisconsin is often called the first Norwegian Lutheran church building in America. This is not true – I, for one, favor the Haugean church in Fox River, Illinois. But Old Muskego, which was moved here in 1904, is the oldest surviving one. A new location will have to be found for it. All our guide would tell us was that they were in negotiations about the matter. I have my suspicions, and I wish the project well. The old place deserves preservation.

We sang the old Scandinavian hymn, “Children of the Heav’nly Father” in harmony before we left.

Afterward we wove our way through circuitous highway repairs to Lakewood Cemetery, traditional resting place of Minneapolis’ great and good. There we visited the graves of Professors Georg Sverdrup and Sven Oftedal, the founders of the Lutheran Free Church. Our guys.

This outing got me thinking about our tradition, the Haugean movement, and its place in history.

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Fairy Tale Dragons Can Be Killed

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Chesterton is often misquoted with a couple lines about fairy tales and dragons. Here’s what that master of words actually wrote in “The Red Angel.”

The timidity of the child or the savage is entirely reasonable; they are alarmed at this world, because this world is a very alarming place. They dislike being alone because it is verily and indeed an awful idea to be alone. Barbarians fear the unknown for the same reason that Agnostics worship it—because it is a fact. Fairy tales, then, are not responsible for producing in children fear, or any of the shapes of fear; fairy tales do not give the child the idea of the evil or the ugly; that is in the child already, because it is in the world already. Fairy tales do not give the child his first idea of bogey. What fairy tales give the child is his first clear idea of the possible defeat of bogey. The baby has known the dragon intimately ever since he had an imagination. What the fairy tale provides for him is a St. George to kill the dragon.

Exactly what the fairy tale does is this: it accustoms him for a series of clear pictures to the idea that these limitless terrors had a limit, that these shapeless enemies have enemies in the knights of God, that there is something in the universe more mystical than darkness, and stronger than strong fear. When I was a child I have stared at the darkness until the whole black bulk of it turned into one negro giant taller than heaven. If there was one star in the sky it only made him a Cyclops. But fairy tales restored my mental health, for next day I read an authentic account of how a negro giant with one eye, of quite equal dimensions, had been baffled by a little boy like myself (of similar inexperience and even lower social status) by means of a sword, some bad riddles, and a brave heart. Sometimes the sea at night seemed as dreadful as any dragon. But then I was acquainted with many youngest sons and little sailors to whom a dragon or two was as simple as the sea.

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After-action report: Scandinavian Fest, Moorhead, Minn.

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The Scandinavian Festival in Moorhead is over, and I am safely home. I am tired and sore but intact, as is my car – thanks be to the Lord.

The picture above shows my little bookselling booth, with Viking tent attached, set up right at the southwest corner of the stave church, a replica of the Hopperstad stave church in Norway (I met the guy who built it once, but that’s another story).

Here’s the rest of our camp, or most of the rest. I didn’t photograph everything.

There was an odd symmetry between the two days of the festival, at least for me. History did not repeat itself, but it rhymed, sort of, in very different existential modes.

Our big concern on Friday was the weather. The day was forecast to be mostly cloudy, with rain showers in the early afternoon. Our hope was that the showers would be light and quick to pass. The rain turned out to be fairly heavy, and at one point it actually started hailing on us. As it happened, the hail began just as I was in the middle of working a credit card transaction on my cell phone – fortunately, my customer was a good sport, and was not deterred. I should have asked her to come in under my awning, but my awning is not that waterproof anymore. When it rains heavily, the rain drips down in a straight line across the lowest point in the canvas. I had my books out in front of that line, while I myself stood in back of it, the Veil of Drip separating us in the fashion made popular by the veil of the temple in Jerusalem.

I sold exactly three books on Friday. We all hoped things would be better on Saturday, because the weather was supposed to be nice and, well, it would be Saturday.

My sales on Saturday, as I hinted earlier, sort of paralleled Friday’s weather. I sat for hours without a single sale, worried that the whole thing would be a bust. Then, around early afternoon, customers started streaming in (like a storm, get it?). Fully four of those customers took advantage of my Festival Discount to buy the entire Erling saga all at once. Then business passed away like the hailstorm, but I’d sold enough to satisfy me.

Everybody else seemed to enjoy the festival too. I was delighted to be stationed so close to the stave church.

I took another picture of the church, though it’s incomplete. To get a really good shot, I’d have had to stand in the blacksmith’s booth. He probably would have let me – he’s a genial fellow – but I didn’t like to ask.

I also got a picture of the Hjemkomst ship inside the museum, or at least of its prow. One of my book customers had known Bob Asp, the ship’s builder, when he was a guidance counselor in Moorhead and he himself was a teenager.

Thanks to the Clay County Historical Society for letting us participate. I hope we can do it again.

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The saga of Bob Asp

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There probably won’t be any more posts from me this week. I’m heading up to Moorhead, Minn. tomorrow, for the upcoming Scandinavian festival at the Hjemkomst Museum.

You might be interested to watch the video above, telling the story of the strange adventure that brought the Hjemkomst Viking ship into existence. Bob Asp, a guidance counselor from Moorhead High School, conceived the idea of building a replica Viking ship (based on the Gokstad Ship) and sailing it back to Norway. It seemed like a crazy idea, but he was able to get support and build the ship. Sadly, he did not survive to actually make the voyage, but his sons, his daughter, and others did accomplish it. (I was a young man then; I wish I’d gotten the opportunity to be part of that.)

Today, replica Viking ships are fairly common in the world, but this was (I believe) the first serious attempt to build a true sailing model since the Viking ship that made it to the Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893. Replica ships are archaeological experiments, and we’ve learned things since then that Bob Asp didn’t know – his ship’s example served as a corrective for later builders.

For instance, we know now that Viking ships were built with planks split out of logs in a sort of pie-slice pattern, then planed flat. Bob Asp’s ships used sawn boards, which are less resilient and crack more easily. Also, the Vikings used green wood to build, then let the planks season in place after fastening. This helped them maintain their shape (some of the planks on Asp’s ship, I have read, tended to pop out of place).

Still, Bob Asp had an epic dream and he got it finished. Not everybody can say that.

Bookselling, Uncategorized

Personal appearance alert: Scandinavian Festival, Moorhead MN

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Our Viking camp at the Hjemkomst Center, one of the last times we were there.

I have heard rumors – somewhere – that most of this country (not to mention the world) is not located in the Upper Midwest where I reside. And I’m pretty sure that most of our readers don’t live in these parts either. As a matter of fact, only half our Brandywine Books blogging staff lives anywhere near Minnesota.

Yet I do make these “personal appearances” from time to time, and feel obligated to inform you about them. Who knows? Some super fan may fly in from Florin or Guilder someday, just to meet me and get a book signed.

Hey, I’m a fantasy writer. Improbability is my wheelhouse.

Regardless, I am planning to be (with the Viking Age Club) in Moorhead, Minnesota (adjacent to Fargo) this weekend, for the Nordic Culture Clubs’ Scandinavian Festival.

The Festival will be held at the Hjemkomst Center, a museum built to house the Hjemkomst Viking ship, which was built in Hawley, Minnesota and sailed by a group of Minnesotans across the Atlantic to Norway in the 1970s. The museum’s park also features a lovely full-sized replica of the Hopperstad Stave Church. It is well worth visiting at any time.

If you’ve been reading this blog a while, you may recall that I’ve been to the Hjemkomst Center for Viking events before, but it’s been a few years. I’m looking forward to going back; it’s an excellent venue for Vikings.

If through some geographical anomaly you happen to be around Moorhead on Friday and Saturday, I’d be happy to see you.

If I’m not there, it’ll probably mean that the cold I’ve been fighting has gotten the upper hand.