In the past few weeks, we’ve noticed a few things.
1. The further along we go in this story, the fewer consistent readers we have.
2. Working in the confines of this serial format is becoming more stifling the more we write. We can’t go back and change anything even if an idea comes along that could improve the story as a whole, and we can’t write whatever scene is most fresh in our mind at the time because we have to focus on getting the next chronological scene ready to publish.
3. We’re getting next to no feedback or interaction of any kind on the story in this medium.
Since posting to this blog as we write has become more of a detriment than a benefit to finishing the story, we’ve decided to change our approach. Andrew and I are going to stop posting here for the time being and focus on writing a complete rough draft of Aldaeus. When it’s finished, we’ll edit it together and then we’ll return to our serial format with the finished product – possibly in a different medium, we’ll see. For now, you probably won’t see a lot of us around here, but rest assured that if you’ve enjoyed Aldaeus so far we’re working as hard as we can to make sure that it’s as good as it can be, and when it’s ready we hope you’ll come back and enjoy it some more. Thanks for your patience and understanding, friends. Off we go.
It’s been a while, friends, but the time has come. Things are settling down here in the Newtonsphere, and I’m happy to announce that in two weeks from today, on the 3rd of January, you’ll have a brand new entry of Aldaeus to read. From there, the plan is to keep up with weekly updates straight through to the end of the story, whenever that may be. No more unexpected interruptions and months-long hiatuses. Thanks for you patience and thank you for reading. Tell your friends, mark your calendars, and we’ll see you back here bright and early next year to carry on the adventure!
Andrew and I have discovered a bit of a flaw in our posting schedule. With the current plan, we tend to forget that the deadline is approaching until it’s on top of us because it’s so early on in the week, so we’ve been rushed to polish and post our entries. In an effort to stave off that stressful tendency, beginning this week we will be posting new entries on Fridays instead. Thanks for bearing with us, and for reading Aldaeus every week. It means a lot to us, and we appreciate each one of you. See you on Friday!
So, Tim promised you a bonus post from me, and I have been trying to find time to put it up, but due to a crazy work schedule here we are at launch day. So today you get a preview post before I put up the first story segment. I wrote some dossier-style crew files for the Gwendolyn, the main ship in O’Ryan Deep Space Salvage’s fleet. Here you go, the story will begin shortly.
It’s strange, writing a story that’s older than I am, but I guess that’s the sort of thing that happens when storytelling runs in your family. My dad loves to dream up scenarios and characters and new worlds, but he rarely finds time to write any of it down, so after more than forty years he’s built up a nearly limitless reservoir of half-finished tales in his head. And sometimes, when he found a story seed that was really special, one that wouldn’t sit quietly in non-existence, he would pull it up from the depths of his mind and share it with my brothers and me.
Aldaeus was one of the special ones, and it finally found its chance to become a reality in the spring of 2011. Andrew decided to tackle the Script Frenzy challenge that year, a call to write 100 pages of script during the month of April, and as he began to brainstorm ideas for his script Dad mentioned that he had a story that might fit the bill. He told Andrew about a young man whose life was changed when he discovered the first clues to an incredible secret in his late grandfather’s will, and as soon as Andrew heard it he knew he wanted to bring it to life. He offered me the chance to co-author the story then, too, but after about thirty minutes of flailing about for ideas I determined that I wasn’t cut out for the screenwriting life and left him to develop the first draft of Aldaeus himself.
Andrew worked hard on his script that month, adding layers and characters and subplots to the skeleton of Dad’s tale and eventually reaching his 100-page goal, but once April ended it seemed like that would be the end of Sean O’Ryan’s story. We don’t exactly know anyone with the resources to film a sci-fi TV series pilot, so with the challenge complete and more pressing tasks at hand Andrew consigned Aldaeus to a little space in the corner of his hard drive and the back of his mind for two years.
The story stuck with Andrew, though, just like it had with Dad, and he felt an urge to bring it back, to tell it again in a way that would really do it justice. Shortly after we started Newton & Newton, Inc. he approached me with another chance to make this story a real family affair. This time it would take the shape of a novel, my home turf. Better yet, it would be a serial, something I’ve always wanted to try. He told me the story again, this time stronger and richer with all the details he’d added since Dad had bequeathed it to him, and this time it slowly drew me in. At first it felt like Andrew’s and Dad’s story, not mine, and I wondered if I’d be able to invest myself in it as fully as it deserved. Then we split the story down the center and Andrew introduced me to my main character, Daniel. His story was largely unwritten, his world a blank slate, and as I filled his life with background and foreshadowing and friends and enemies and purpose there was no question about it – Aldaeus was my story, too.
Now, the story about a boy inheriting the family business is a family affair, and after begging to be written for longer than I’ve been alive it’s finally found its way out into the world at large. We can’t wait for you to meet it.
Thirty years ago, Daniel Reese watched his parents die. At five years old, he didn’t really understand why they were gone so much, or why their house was always full of somber, strange adults, or why they never stayed in one place for long, but that day he understood one thing: his parents were gone for good, and the men in red and white had taken them from him.