Vanity, thy name is Ian Fallis?

7 May

It must seem really vain for someone named Ian Fallis to to start a blog named “by Ian Fallis” with the URL ian-fallis.com.

I assure you, it’s not just vanity. I’m also hoping this will help sell more books. So it’s greed and vanity.

But there’s another reason too. A good reason.

While I had my first book, The House in the Old Wood, out to a few critical readers before releasing it, I got some feedback that improved not only the first book, but subsequent books.

For instance, one reader mentioned that they really liked a particular character. But at the time, that character did not make an appearance in the series past the first book. And I realized that was a shame. I liked the character too. Continue reading →

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You gotta aim for something …

6 May

I started writing my series, The Day Magic Died, in November 2011.

It was far from the first book I had started. I’ve lost count of how many books I began writing. I always ran out of steam somewhere along the line. Mostly, I never knew where I was going, and therefore, how to get there.

That almost happened with this series.

Unlike anything I’ve ever attempted before, this book just seem to pour out of my fingertips. (Gosh, that sounds kind of gross. Or like it made an awful mess of my keyboard.)

But as it poured out, it became clear that I needed to aim it toward something.

So I wrote the ending.

With an ending in mind, I was able to keep on track. Well, sort of. Continue reading →

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Dedicated to my dad

4 May
My mom and dad

My mom and dad in New York in 1946, after their return from India

If not for my Dad, I may not be a writer today, and I doubt I ever would have written a novel.

My dad wanted to be a writer, but he grew up in the Great Depression. The Great Depression was followed by World War II. And when World War II ended, he had the beginnings of a family.

My dad had ended up in construction, and worked from early in the morning until early evening. Then he’d come home, eat, go to bed, and repeat. Six, sometimes seven days a week that was his routine.

But when I was in elementary school, he’d fit in a walk after dinner and before bed. And on those walks, he and I would tell stories to each other. I don’t remember a single one of them. I only remember that his seemed pretty good, and mine seemed rather lame. But swapping stories made me want to tell stories. Continue reading →

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