Readers, I have a treat for you today. Edward Eaton is a fantasy author whose latest books is one of that Terry Pratchett fans will love. I asked him for an interview, and he agreed. Allow me to introduce you to Edward Eaton and his latest release, An Empty God. Take it away, Edward:
What book do you wish you could have written?
Eaters of the Dead, by Michael Creighton, or The Robe, by Lloyd C. Douglas. Of course, I’d love to have had the sales of The Da Vinci Code or Twilight or Harry Potter—oh, and I am only comparing those books in terms of sales, not quality.
The books I chose, in different ways, explore how reality can become myth. That is something I touch on in most of my work (as a writer and as a teacher).
Myth is not fiction nor is it fictive. By its very nature, myth is history. Over time, any myth has gone through many filters and has been adjusted for any number of socio-cultural reasons. Many myths seem ridiculous—and they are if taken at face value. However, the intent of any myth was always to be an accurate and true rendition/retelling of a real event. Because, up to a point, at least, these retellings are oral, they go through changes based on the identities of the tellers and the audiences. As such, they evolve and take on various aspects and characteristics. We, in our modern state of being right about everything, reject many of these aspects as being impossible and untrue. We forget that we are reading a version of the myth that is hundreds of years old. The reason the myth has not evolved to suit the changing times in the last 500+ years is that by writing down a story, we end its development. Once the story is codified and canonized, it becomes static, whereas before it was dynamic. (Fairy tales, though by nature and intent fictional and fictive, go through a similar process). Had The Iliad or The Gospels not been written down, who is to tell how those tales might look had they survived. They were written down, so have become canon—absolute (well, sort of). If you retell the story of Jesus or the story of Cinderella, you are expected to stick to the absolutes given in canonical versions or at least to justify your changes by using other canonical or at least identifiable sources. True, the only way to trace the stories is through writing (folklorists and theologians do this), but at some point, a version is put down that becomes authoritative (see, for example, the Council of Laodicea in 363 C.E. or the Brothers Grimm). The story is now locked. Most people simply believe that the locked version is essentially the original version.
There is something exciting about the idea of exploring—perhaps imagining is a better word—the origin of a myth. It is not hard to see how a tsunami that lays waste to an entire region could be seen, after some multi-generational game of telephone, as some sort of effort by God to punish decadent and wicked city-dwellers. After all, it is the cities that will, being coastal, likely be destroyed, and is is the rural survivors who will retell the story to their children and to their children’s children. Schliemann tried to find the original site of the Trojan War and has convinced a lot of people that the war happened in Hisarlik, Turkey (he was wrong: The Iliad and The Odyssey are clearly retelling of The Ramayana).
Creighton and Douglas create worlds where the stories make sense in a fairly literal and realistic way and allow the readers to see how the possible becomes, over time, the impossible—how mundane history becomes mythic history.
Don’t get me wrong, other writers do the same. I could easily have said The Lord of the Rings. I suspect a lot of people would say that as well.
Just as your books inspire authors, what authors have inspired you?
When I was growing up, I read a lot of books by Edward Stratemeyer. He was an author/businessman who wrote hundreds of books under dozens of pennames and ran a syndicate that was responsible for hundreds more books under various pennames written by jobber writers. My father had a whole bunch of Rover Boys books and Tom Swift and other series. My brothers and I (mostly I) collected over the years Hardy Boy, Nancy Drew, Bobbsey Twin (my favorite and long with the Rovers), and others. I loved those books. They were thrilling and engaging. They were pure escapism. True, as an adult, I recognize that they are formulaic, often problematically so. By today’s standards, they are often not as politically progressive as we like to think we are. They are certainly not as sophisticated as many of the good Children’s and YA books are today (though still better than a lot). I loved them and still have fond memories of reading them. I would not be the reader I am today (nor the writer) had it not been for Stratemeyer.
Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
Realistically and statistically speaking, I’ll still be living in Needham, MA, teaching as an adjunct, and writing books.
That is really not a fun answer. So…
I’m still writing. I’m just writing on a catamaran in the Caribbean. Maybe I’ll be in the Pacific by then. I want a liveaboard--preferably a catamaran or a trimaran, though a large enough monohull (a ketch for more stability) would work. My boat cannot be too large as I want to single-hand or short-hand sail her. If I need a crew, that’s what guests are for. After a few seasons in the Caribbean and maybe a summer in the Med., I want to circumnavigate. It’ll take me a while, since I’ll need people with me for the long stretches. Part of me wants to make sure I see St. Helena and Pitcairn, but they are both so very isolated that the trips might not be worth it. From what I’ve read, St. Helena might be preferable, as there is actually a decent-sized community. When I’m not sailing, I can write. I actually do have a couple of ideas for novels that have a significant “sailing/yachting” element to them, but that is not necessarily what I want to write about. I can continue to teach to some degree.
BTW, No, I am not going to try and do a boating blog or YouTube series. I write fiction.
I do not know if that is where I will be, but that is where I see myself. If I could afford the boat, I’d leave once my semester ended.
What writing advice do you have for other aspiring authors?
Treat writing like a job.
Treat it like a part-time job if you have to, but it has to be a job.
I have found that everyone considers my writing time to be off time. Of course, writing gives some freedom. If I don’t want to write today, who cares? If I want to go out to lunch tomorrow or watch a movie, whose business is it? However, if I do this too often, then everyone around me figures that I’m free for their wants. I don’t mind doing chores and running errands. I don’t like it when everyone considers that my time is theirs to fill. If I treat it like a job, other people might treat my writing like a hobby. If I treat it like a hobby, they will consider their time to use with me—for example, while I have been writing this answer, I’ve been sent to the store, asked to wash the dishes (twice), tasked with chopping food for a meal I do not plan on eating, and sent fetch eggs and pots and pans from the pantry. This one short answer has taken me over an hour to write. For what it is worth, I’ve met writers who make a lot more money than I say more or less the same thing about their writing time and their family and friends.
Are you a plotter or a pantster?
Both. Terrible answer, but the truth. I do not believe there are many people out there writing professionally (and well) who are complete pantsers. Writing is as much about craft as it is about talent—perhaps even more. I spend a lot of time playing out the events of my stories in my mind. I write rough outlines. I write detailed outlines of chapters. I draft. By the time I’m done with a chapter, I may discover that the section I thought would take a few pages only really took a few sentences; maybe I needed to introduce a character earlier than I’d planned; maybe a story arc ended or got cut. So, then I take another look at the whole outline and adjust. There may be writers who follow their outlines slavishly. I do not. I certainly do not pick up my pen and start writing.
To be fair to alleged pantsers, there may be people out there who plan out their stories in their heads and are happy to adjust things as they move along. G.R.R. Martin supposedly throws seeds to the wind and sees where they land, as it were. That cannot be entirely true. No one can come up with “Hodor,” the question of Jon’s parents, and such an elaborate backstory without having a really good idea of where things came from and where they are going. BTW, were he more of a “plotter,” we might have that next book.
I write down my plan because I have so many ideas that I cannot focus. I need to make a decision about where the story is going, or I’d never write anything. I write because I want to tell the story to other people—I’m an artist; there is always the idea of an audience.
I will say, “more power” to people who can conceive their ideas and keep everything in order in their minds. I cannot. I think the same could be said about most artists in most media.
What is your least favorite part of the publishing/writing process?
Saying goodbye to my part in the process. Once the book is accepted by the publisher and goes to the editors, I have less control. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll be popular enough to have more control. When the MS comes back to me for a final go-through, there is only so much I can do. Of course, a lot depends on the editor. The first two books of my YA series, Rosi’s Doors, had the same editor. We went through the book together. I was aware of what she was doing, what changes she was suggesting, and the issues and problems she had. We were in contact with each other. If she made changes (especially bigger changes or cuts), we discussed them. She gave her reasons. If I disagreed, I explained my reasons. I felt well taken care of. She cared about the book and helped me make it better. For reasons I know nothing about, I had a couple of editors for the final book in the series. There was one section that the first editor flagged as too dark for the target audience. She was right. However, a new editor came in and “fixed” it without any discussion with me. Her fix was a complete tonal change from the rest of the book. I raised a stink. I was allowed to rewrite it myself, but I knew that I had to choose my battles. Usually, the interaction is great. If I disagree with the editor, I am expected to support my point rather than simply say, “I want it this way.” So far, I have almost always gotten my way. Still, I don’t turn the process into a fight. Once or twice, I’ve even been allowed to say, “Oh God! I screwed up. Can I fix this part?” and then have had the chance to fix it.
Once the contracts are signed, writing becomes a collaborative process. At least with writing novels, poetry, and plays, I don’t have to show it to anyone until I am more or less ready. Imagine writing for television, where the author is rarely ever in control of the process.
Is there one subject you would never write about as an author? What is it?
Absolutely not. There are many subjects I might never write about. I love James Clavell’s Noble House, but I have no interest in writing about business rivalry and shenanigans in Hong Kong in 1963. I have no interest in writing about Mary Todd Lincoln—or Abraham Lincoln, for that matter. However, if a story popped into my head that needed one or both of those characters, I don’t see why I wouldn’t.
I grew up being told not to discuss religion or politics. However, An Empty God is about a god. The issue of religion certainly comes up a fair amount. Religion does not come across as an inherently positive concept. Since Dravpruk is not part of any specific pantheon, I am not criticizing any particular religion. However, it would probably not be too difficult to figure out where I found some of my analogs.
God either exists or God does not exist. God is either God or a god. The same could be said about Vishnu. An existing God (by whatever name) is likely so far beyond our ability to understand or comprehend that there is really no point in wasting time debating God’s natures, intentions, or desires. Religion limits God (be it Christianity, Islam, or Hinduism in general or Roman Catholicism, Shiitism, or Vaushnavism in specific)). It defines God, thus trying to control God (I am trying desperately to avoid using any pronouns here). There is something egoistical, impious, facile, and even impertinent for us to think that in a Universe with 200 billion trillion stars, God really cares whether your kid gets a new bike for his birthday. Yet, we expect God to care—and to do something about it. We pray. We beg. We negotiate. We even try to bribe.
Well, anyway, these are some of the things Dravpruk has to deal with in An Empty God.
Is this your first book? How many books have you written prior (if any?)
My first published book was a dramatic verse version of Orpheus and Eurydice. Or should I call it a verse drama? It was performed by a university drama group in Nizwa, Oman. It recently received a “staged reading” in the States. It is a fun piece with a small cast (6 people). Elizabeth Bathory was written before Orpheus and Eurydice. Historically, Elizabeth Bathory was walled up alive in her castle to grow old and die. In my version, a priest comes to try and convert/confess her only to learn that the blood she drank to keep herself young actually worked—instead of an aged crone, he finds a young, vibrant, and very angry countess behind the bricks.
Next came my YA series, Rosi’s Doors. Young Rosi Carol moves to live with her creepy uncle in his old castle on the New Hampshire coast. There, she learns that her family has a peculiar relationship with time and an obligation to see that the timeline runs smoothly. Being a teenager, she proceeds to screw everything up. Her uncle punishes her by telling her to go and fix it while he goes on vacation—her problem, not his. The books are a lot of fun. The first, Rosi’s Castle, is something of a mystery about the nature of the town in which she finds herself. The second and third books are more adventure- and action-filled. The three are somewhat philosophical, too. I suppose that one question I explore is whether history is about what happened, what we remember happening, or what we wish happened.
Toh’s Saga is a free-verse epic journey of a sentient bubble. It was inspired by a passage in Carl Sagan’s Cosmos: “I am skeptical about most of the extraterrestrial visions, [which] rely on forms of life we already know…. I do not think life anywhere else would look very much like a reptile, or an insect, or a human—even with…minor cosmetic adjustments… But if you pressed me, I could try to imagine something rather different.” (Chapter II, “One Voice in the Cosmic Fugue.”)
Hector and Achilles and Giants Fall, are both verse dramas that take place during the Trojan War. Hector and Achilles, of course, concerns the events surrounding the famous duel between the two great heroes. Giants Fall concerns itself with the death of Achilles and the events that follow. The characters overlap, but I’m not sure if Giants Fall is a proper sequel, in the modern sense. In Hector and Achilles, Achilles is mysterious and philosophical. In Giants Fall, Achilles is a henpecked boob. In the first play, Odysseus and Ajax are comic relief; in the second, Odysseus is conniving and villainous, and Ajax is tragic.
First Love Last Love is the story of a group of toys that escape their basement storage prison in search of their owner. They find him, an old man near death, and decide to take him (and have him take them) on one last adventure.
What are you working on now? What is your next project?
I have several projects.
One is a supernatural thriller in which a group of kids (no dog, BTW) figures out who the local serial killer is. Since they know they can not bring him to legal justice, they end up taking justice into their own hands. Shortly after they stop his killing spree, they learn that they’d gotten it wrong. The man they’d dealt with was innocent. Now, the real killer knows who they are. On top of that, they have to face their own guilts and responsibilities in their own ways.
Another is a verse epic about a snowball fight. There is a supernatural element to it. It takes place in the same universe as An Empty God.
I am also developing a fantasy world. I have several narratives I have been playing with. One is about an aristocratic scholar (a younger son, of course), who causes a small scandal and is sent away on a diplomatic mission to a backwater post with one instruction: don’t start a war or anything daft like that. So, he proceeds to, inadvertently, destroy centuries of peace and start a world war that kills hundreds of thousands of people and lays waste to empires. When he is finally brought before his own rulers, they realize that he is just about the only person who understands how to end the war. A second narrative is about a member of a third-rate troupe of players (actors) who gets separated from his fellows and blunders into command of a company of soldiers on the run from a vastly superior army led by technology-wielding priest generals. One thing I am exploring in this world is how point-of-view should affect writing styles. Many authors know, for example, that characters from different classes might sound different when they speak, but rarely do they make any significant adjustments in diction to reflect how the characters see the world or think. For example, an aristocrat might well walk into a dining room and see a glorious cornucopia of foods: succulent meats, juicy fruits, a variety of vegetables cooked in subtle ways, fine wines, and rich sauces all prepared and served on antique china or glittering silver. However, a mountain man who has come to the city for the first time and somehow wanders into the same dining room does not see a glorious cornucopia of foods: succulent meats, juicy fruits, a variety of vegetables cooked in subtle ways, fine wines, and rich sauces all prepared and served on antique china or glittering silver—he sees piles of grub. My aristocrat is a scholar who sees and thinks like a scholar who has spent his life in archives and books and wealth. My player is barely literate, has spent most of his life surrounded by squalor and filth, and does not even daydream of greatness as it is so far divorced from his reality. These two see life differently. They certainly think about life in different terms.
Do you write naked?
I barely shower naked. That is almost the truth. LOL. When I was younger, I used to travel a lot. A great way to wash clothes (especially underclothes) was to wear them in the shower, soap them off as I wash, rinse them, and hang them out to dry (I liked traveling in warmer areas). I haven’t done that in a while (except when I went sailing for two weeks last year). It works.
I was born fully dressed. I’ll die fully dressed. I’ll stay as dressed as I can in between.
If you had a superpower, what would it be?
Teleportation. The trick is to understand what teleports with me. Do my clothes? If my clothes, then why not the chair I’m sitting in? If I’m holding my wife’s hand, does she come or just the hand? The ability to fly (like Superman) does not mean that I can stay awake long enough to fly across the Atlantic or survive the cold (or heat from the friction) if I can fly fast enough. All “superpowers” have similar issues; there are usually a whole bunch of superpowers mushed together. So I like teleportation.
A number of years ago, I taught at a university in Oman. I loved the job. My wife hated the area (too far from family and friends, too hot, etc.). So, she and our son came home. I was left with a choice that was not much of a choice: stay and lose my family; come home and lose the job. I came home. Now, had I been able to teleport, I could have kept a small apartment near the university. I wake up in the morning near Boston (I live in Needham, MA), go to my attic office, then teleport to my apartment in Nizwa. There, I have clothes, a car, some food, money, a credit card, and everything I need to teach classes. At the end of the day, I reverse the process. I don’t need to steal money or anything. If I decided to live in Paris, I could get a small studio someplace in the city and simply zap back and forth. I would have to travel there in the first place—but only once.
Of course, If I can take my clothes and things I’m carrying, then what I do is different. I can easily pop into a bank vault and pop out with some cash. I like the challenge of having to figure out how to do with the tougher way.
What literary character is most like you?
Gosh. I’d like to say so many names.
Too many of the great characters die. Boromir is a great character. Tragic. Human. Interesting (the non-hobbits in LotR, especially the humans, are dreadfully dull). Mercutio is great, as is Tybalt. They die.
Tyrian Lannister and I have similar personalities. I am not quite as full of myself as he is.
I love the Lord of the Rings. I’m certainly no Frodo or Sam. I’d like to be Merry or Pippin. I am most likely Fredegar Bolger. He does not go with the four because he is not quite ready to take that step. However, when push comes to shove, he rises to the occasion. I’m pretty sure that if someone came to me with a grand quest, I’d talk myself out of it. I like to think that I have what it takes to step up when needed.
If I were one of the great, I’d probably be Saruman. I’m no tech person, but even I realize that a world that has been technologically static for millennia is in trouble. Good God, they’re still using the same swords they used almost twenty generations ago! Saruman is forward-thinking. He’s accused of fiddling with wheels and gadgets (or something like that). So what? Gandalf and Elrond are Luddites who have intentionally kept Middle Earth stuck in the Middle Ages. There’s no need to antagonize the Ents (they aren’t going to get involved unless they get pissed off). Don’t lock up Gandalf on some spire: have him taken into some alley and have a bullet put in the back of his head. Reign in Grima, who goes too far. Logically, some sort of deal with Sauron makes sense. Most of Sauron's followers are men, who live in the lands of men. There are plenty of people out there who have written about how life to the East of Mordor must be, so I won’t go into all that. I will point out that everything we hear about Sauron is fed to us by the Elves and Gandalf, who clearly hate Sauron (to be fair, even Gandalf expects Sauron to win). Is Aragorn so good? He completely disrupts a socio-political system that has worked for centuries. His claim to power is that some great-great-great-great-whatever grandfather was king (by the way, I could say the same thing). Should we give France back to the Merovingians? Italy, to the Caesars? Russia, to the Khans? Why don’t we let the Aztecs rule in Mexico—we could televise the human sacrifices.
Does Aragorn have an economic plan? Can he even spell “economics”? What does he think about unions? Is his foreign policy really simply saying, “I bear the sword that was broken and that has been reforged!”? He comes in, marries some Elven princess (why not appease some of the eastern lands by marrying into them?), and commits genocide on the poor orcs.
Let’s be honest, Saruman is the smart one.
The others are far too MAGA for my liking.
With my luck, though, I’d be Radaghast…or one of the forgotten Blue wizards.
What secret talents do you have?
I crochet. I’ve tried knitting. I’ll figure it out someday. Too many needles, though. I’m just about smart enough to use one. I make scarves and blankets and hats. I’ve tried a few ambitious projects. They come out fine. I love doing it. I wish I had more time.
I’ve also done needle tatting. Beautiful. Fun. However, you can work away for hours only to realize that you just tatted two square inches. Very frustrating. I can make a scarf in a couple of days. A blanket in a few weeks. I tatted an 18” circumference doily that took me months!
One of the “guest cabins” on my catamaran will be set up as a sitting/needlework room.
What’s on your bucket list (things to do before you die)?
Live on a catamaran (or even a monohull). I want to spend a few years in the Caribbean and some time in the Mediterranean. I don’t want to solo across the Atlantic, so I would take along a few people—maybe my son and some of his buddies. Likely, my wife will come and join me when I am in a place where we spend more time on land (archipelagos or long coasts). I figure these are the places where we will have more company. Let’s face it, I’ll expect to be popular except when I need help. If the Red Sea is safe, then through Suez. Otherwise, back to the Caribbean and through Panama to the Pacific. Then I need to decide if I want to pop over to Hawaii and then to all those islands. Do I want to skim across Australia? Eventually, go up to Asia, along India, pop down to South Africa, go north to the Canaries, then back across. If the Red Sea and the coast of Africa are safe, then reverse everything.
I would think a Cat or Tri between 45-55 feet (I like room to roam). Or a Monohull 50-60 feet. There may be some wiggle room there, but I will be spending a lot of time short- or single-handed sailing. If the boat is too big, I cannot sail it (and it’s not as if I have years and years of experience—I do have some, but I’m hardly seasoned).
Even if I don’t try to circumnavigate, I’m sure I can spend years just sailing around the Caribbean. I read about a couple that spent five years just in the Exumas.
I will fly to wherever my boat is, and, if I’m lucky and careful, I will never have to get on a plane except to meet my grandkids or something like that (or if I should ever have to travel to Stockholm for some reason 😀 😀.
My boat will be named “The Madeline” or “The Princess Madeline” after my little puppy who recently passed. She and I spent a lot of time planning our sailing adventures. I couldn’t go without her somehow. The dinghy will be named “The Marcy,” after her sister, who passed about six or seven years ago.
What were you like as a child? Your favorite toy?
My favorite toys were a stuffed panda and a stuffed bear. They were my first panda and bear, so are creatively called Panda and Bear. They are still around in a place of great privilege.
I have always loved stuffed animals (still do, by the way: the conceptual cast of First Love Last Love is made up of some of my son Christopher’s toys). I divided my animals into two groups: big and small. At night, I’d load as many into my bed as my parents would allow. I would use the big ones to create locations or sets and the little ones (about the size of my hand or so) to play characters. I invented stories or simply explored and retold the stories of books I was reading.
I guess you could say that I was a bit of an introvert when I was younger. I was also a loner. Still am both. I read books, played Dungeons and Dragons, acted in plays, and played with my animals.
Thank you, Edward, for the in-depth interview. I really enjoyed getting to know you better. Readers, scroll down to read more about Edward’s latest release.
Title An Empty God
Author Edward Eaton
Genre Literary Fantasy
Publisher Dragonfly Publishing, Inc.
Book Blurb
Dravpruk reigns over his lands, carving out seas, shaping mountain ranges, dallying with nymphs and satyrs, and sometimes chasing off giants or hunting trolls.
It is good to be a god.
When the first humans spread across his lands, Dravpruk's life becomes complicated. Does he antagonize the other gods by making war against these primitive creatures? Or should he try to understand humans? How does a young god survive with so many obstacles in his path?
Excerpt
Chapter I
I.
I am.
I am a God.
That much I can say.
That much I know.
That much I remember.
I have forgotten much more than I could ever remember.
I have forgotten most of my past, though I still have some vivid memories, mental pictures, of my existence so far. Vivid memories but hazy around the edges. There is an order to them, though understanding the order of a God’s memories is much like understanding the order that leaves fall from a tree. There might be a meaning in it, a pattern to it, but there are so many leaves on any given tree that even Gods would not bother trying to figure out the reason they fall as they do.
I am young. I am old. I am older than mountains. I am older than some stars, for I saw many born in the heavens, popping into existence as new pricks of white in a black vacuum. I am certainly younger than some stars, for I was able to watch some of my celestial companions, that were likely old when I came into existence, fizzle and die—or flare out in death as great supernovae. I am older than most seas and younger than the great oceans. I suppose I am younger than many Gods—there were wila and satyrs in my infancy, so there must have been gods before me to have created them.
I have had many children. Children I have fathered, and children I have borne.
Some of them I knew. Some I did not.
Some of them were Gods.
Some…
...were not.
Those that might have been Gods are all gone now, or, at least, as far as I know, they are.
They are gone, as are most of my kind: overrun by civilizations; destroyed by other Gods; slain by giants or other fell beasts who dare to rise up against Gods; killed by happenstance; devoured by time; simply wasted and withered by inaction, lethargy, or, in some cases, indifference; or…well, I’ve known enough talers to know I should not tell the end of my story before I start.
If my divine children are not dead by now, they might as well be. The Age of Gods has ended.
Most of my children were mortal. At least, as far as I can remember. They are certainly dead by now.
Some of them are part of my story and of my memories.
Most are not.
One problem with immortality is that events, seemingly significant at the time, are diminished, subsumed, or forgotten. I might well have loved my children. Some of them. Most of them, for all I know. Perhaps I raised them and praised them and nurtured them and guided them. It is also possible that we ended in strife and violence. I am sure I loved some of them some of the time and hated some of them some of the time. That is the nature of parenting among men and wila and satyrs and beasts under the Sun or under the seas. It is also the nature of parenting among Gods. If there is any aspect of parenting the divine have excelled at over man and beast is the ability to fail abjectly. When a parent falls out with a child, the family might be torn apart. Perhaps in the cases of kings and lords, wars might be fought and nations brought down. If a God and his Godspawn fall out, entire species might be wiped out or civilizations laid waste. As you will see, I have, in my fury, rained destruction down on my lands and creatures. Perhaps I have done it many times. It is possible that at some point I did so in conflict with a child or even a parent.
I do not remember.
Sometimes, I feel the need to remember, but I cannot remember what I need to remember.
I have forgotten.
Whatever relationships I had were brief in relation to the length of my life.
Children grow. If they are Gods, they leave. If they are mortal, they die. Friendships cannot last. If a friend is a God, eventually one of us will get tired and restless. It may take an eon, but one of us will leave. If friends are mortal, they die. Perhaps worse: they age and wither. There is no joy or beauty in infirmity and frailty.
Lovers?
I have loved many times, though few loves remain in my memory. The pleasures of divine love might well last an age, but what is one age among countless? Even less can I retain the love of a mortal, who must age and die in the fraction of a blink of an eye. I may have loved with the ardor and brilliance of a thousand thousand stars, but passion wanes and makes way for new passions, new ardors, which in turn fade and make way for others.
Each love, each passion, as overwhelming and all-consuming as the last.
Each love, each passion, unique.
Each love, each passion, indistinguishable from the others, forgotten. Gone. Naught.
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Author Biography
In addition to being a writer, Edward Eaton is a stage director and fight choreographer who has worked extensively in the Boston area, regionally, and overseas. He has taught classes and workshops at a number of schools, including Harvard, MIT, and Brown. Currently, he calls MassBay Community College his teaching home, where he takes on classes in English, Literature, Critical Thinking, and Philosophy. As a writer, he is responsible for a number of works including the award-winning Rosi’s Doors series, the Greek verse duology of Hector and Achilles and Giants Fall, and other works. He has also published extensively as an essayist, a journalistic, a theatre and film critic, and a scholar. He lives in the Boston area with his wife, Silviya, and his son, Christopher—when he bothers to come home from college.
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