Welcome to Empyrelia

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Fancy R

The Book of the Lost Royals is a massive tome of two million words in a realm of nearly as many peoples. Hidden from time in a secret vault that knew no decay, it promises to recount an unknown history from an age of wonders. And now, a meticulous translation has begun.

Starting from the front and reading toward the center, the Book tells of Amethestra Straverian, lost princess of the Kingdom of Evereign. A baby abandoned in the wilds, she was found by the unlikeliest caretaker, the one person in all of Empyrelia who might protect her from those dark forces that sought to destroy the world. Under this mysterious witch’s careful, if unusual tutelage, the girl known as Tildy will discover the world beyond the protective borders of the Garden of Dappledown. The translation of the first part of her story is now complete, captured in the book entitled TILDY SILVERLEAF and the STARFALL OMEN.

Astute observers might find themselves compelled to flip the Book of the Lost Royals over, finding there the tale of Prince Adamantin Straverian, her brother. His story progresses also toward the middle, recounting how he was smuggled to safety under a dead child’s name, by an adoptive mother who would never love him as equally as the child he replaced. The boy renamed Samor has grown up behind the walls of the remote ice fortress Yrrengard, being tutored and trained to recover the crown he is unaware he has lost. The translation of his first story, SAMOR and the WARLOCK OF NEVERMORE is nearly complete.

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Writing Exercise: Use Your College Knowledge

This website is dedicated to my novels and the writing process, as well as advocacy for human rights.

A college buddy recently re-entered my life on Facebook, mocking my alarm at the emboldened fascism of the new U.S. administration.

I didn’t know the Jews r worried Elon and Trump are vicious Nazis who will gas chamber them and other inferior minorities? Man will the hispanics and the blacks be pissed because they sure voted a lot for Trump. Wouldn’t that be ironic?

He probably doesn’t know that I studied so much history during our college days, with a focus on the rise of fascism in the 20th Century, that I accidently got a second major for my bachelor’s degree. I’ve walked through concentration camps. I’ve stood in the gas chambers. Something awful still lingers there, as does a tragedy for which Humankind has no words. So instead of responding with equal sarcasm, and ignoring how he unconsciously described minorities as “inferior”, I put my degree to use.


The quarantine yard at Mauthausen, one of the most sickeningly brutal concentration camps.

It doesn’t start with gas chambers. We all know this.

Like all successful bullies, the Authoritarian is more cunning than intelligent, recognizing that threats, bombast, and lies will be more effective than reason. In this way, he camouflages his weakness and impotence as a strength that people truly believe.

And to be perceived as strong, the bully picks on the weak. They are but the backs that must be trodden on the climb to power. The Undesirables must be identified. The Other. They are named Enemies to give the people something to rally around. It is better to be one of Us than one of Them. And the People buy into it because they respect and fear and covet the Power. More often than not, they are the regular people and the downtrodden, not those marching with torches or hanging nooses from trees. Over and again, they have been told they are powerless – these Enemies have taken their power, their jobs, their money, and the lives of their fellow citizens. The People used to be great, but no longer. Convinced, they actually relinquish power and critical thinking for pretty promises that their lives will improve. Promises without a plan, though like all great salespeople, he’s manufactured a need in people for the thing he’s selling.

And lo, their salvation is at hand.

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Writing Exercise – Say Meaningful Things

Writing Exercise – Say Meaningful Things

On May 25, 2020, a police officer murdered George Floyd, a suspect in his custody. As a reminder to Americans, we are all innocent until proven guilty in a court of law.

On May 26, peaceful protests began.

On May 27, peaceful protests continued. Eventually, rioters and outside agitators burned a Minneapolis neighborhood.

On May 28, I wrote this piece. Then I put it aside, unwilling to work further on such a heavy topic.

On November 20, 2024, I rediscovered it. I’m now sharing as part of my month of gratitude and my greater commitment to writing meaningful things.

Sometimes, there are no words.

You want there to be, but they fail.

You hope that you can say that genuine thing to alleviate someone’s pain.

Put an end to suffering.

Quell the madness.

Turns minds away from bigotry.

But there are no words

Tonight as Minneapolis burns.

The writer prides himself on turns of phrase

On vocabulary

On finding the perfect way to state a thing

But the practice, the tools, the tricks

They fail because there are no words.

A word typed

A thought, aloud.

These things are too small for a situation too large.

They are noise.

They are nothing.

Worthless thoughts shouted into the face of the heedless storm.

One day again

The words will come. But today, there are no words

Many of us are grateful that events like this are not part of our world, though we are too ashamed to say it aloud. We need to find our voices. The world becomes a better place when the meaningful things drown out the oppressors’ noise. Please take this encouragement to contribute your own meaningful things.

Thank you for reading. Hug your loved ones this holiday weekend.

–Mike


(C) Michael Wallevand, November 2024

How Do You Honor a Life #3 – Ace

How Do You Honor a Life #3 – Ace

A few years ago, I was invited to join a bunch of dice-rolling, whiskey-swilling hooligans at an annual tabletop gaming retreat called Whiskey Weekend.

Bunch of guys around a large table playing games.
Hooligans, amiright?

I was amazed how quickly I fit in and bonded with the group. With my neurodiversity, I don’t make friends easily or often, nor am I comfortable in social situations. One of the people I connected with quickly was Ace. I suspect this was a combination of our similar senses of humor and my willingness to play any game he rolled out. On a future weekend, I gave him some 3D-printed token holders for Everdell, one of his favorite games. His gratitude became delight when I revealed I’d bought my own copy of Everdell because of him.

About two years ago, he shared some rough news with us. Cancer. In the time leading up to our 2024 weekend, he told us he had chemo scheduled the first Saturday of our retreat. He was going to come up briefly and then jump into the treatments. He was in good spirits, and I could tell he enjoyed even that brief time with us. He offered us silicone bracelets as part of his journey – mine disappeared after Benji snagged it for his stuffies to wear – but I believe it conveyed Ace’s philosophy of staying strong and seizing the day.

Knowing how much he loved the event, I wanted to do something special. I wanted to help him feel like he could still experience some of the weekend, even from a distance. So I did two things.

The first was for the group. I 3D printed tabletop minis for everyone to paint and wrote little stories so people could mix and match. More info here. I gave Ace first pick and he was able to make his selection before he had to leave. I later heard he painted it right away and had a fun time. I wish I could have seen the results.

The second was for Ace himself. The whiskey part of Whiskey Weekend involves a double-elimination tournament where we do a blind taste test every hour. I brought little empty bottles for each entry so Ace could sample the same selection he would have gotten with us. It was perhaps a small comfort, considering Ace looked forward to the weekend more than anyone, but he seemed truly touched. I hope he was able to enjoy the drinks and think fondly of Weekends past. I didn’t know that would be the last time I saw him. I never got a chance to ask.

Friendship is wonderful, strange, magical thing. I think I’d been together with Ace less than 10 times, and yet, I quickly, easily considered him a good friend. I don’t think I knew his actual name for two years.

And so, I found myself at my first Jewish funeral today.

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Writing Exercise – Gratitude

It’s very easy in a job – in any job – to get hung up on all the things you’d love to change. Or to get dragged into negativity when simple commiseration with colleagues descends into toxic complaint sessions. Having worked in a wide variety of roles, including food processing, lab assistant, retail, and several corporate jobs, I can attest that it happens everywhere.

My work division (FindLaw, a part of Thomson Reuters) is being sold to another company, and the watercooler talk runs the gamut of perspectives and opinions, which means if we’re not careful, we could spiral into endless negativity. The stress is high, and many have an irrational fear of the unknown.

What’s helpful for me, and what I’m recommending to all my mentees, is a pros/cons list. It perhaps sounds cliché, but it’s still incredibly effective. While pay, merit increases, and advancement opportunities are important, they’re not the reason I stay with a company. For me, a flexible working schedule is paramount.

My younger son, Benji, has severe autism. Sleep is a recurring issue for him. Some nights, he’s just awake. He’s somehow powered through his nighttime meds and can’t fall asleep again. One night becomes two becomes a week or more. There’s a compounding effect to this, meaning some of his behaviors are worsened, which creates difficulties at school or elsewhere in public. There have been days where I have to drop everything and run to school to bring him home.

At a recent social hour at the office, several colleagues asked how our family was doing.

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Writing Exercise – Don’t Write Yourself Off

Mike Wallevand on high school graduation day at 135 pounds

I hadn’t worked out in 28 years.

I graduated high school a skinny 5’11”, 135-pound basketball player who’d spent his childhood with a ridiculous metabolism. For many of us, things changed in college. Four years later, I’d gained 30 pounds. It wasn’t muscle. Those size 32 pants were a bit snug.

Fast forward nearly twenty years – around 2015 – I stopped checking my weight. A scale displaying 220+ pounds wasn’t something I wanted to see any more. I had more willpower for that than to make any meaningful lifestyle change, and my weight continued to increase.

Collage of Mike at his heaviest

In fact, the only real change I would make was cutting out soda and trying to walk the dogs more. From 2012-2017, I lost maybe 10-15 unremarkable pounds. I certainly didn’t feel any better, physically, mentally, or emotionally.

My wardrobe also remained the same: layers of bulky clothes to hide rolls, folds, and not-quite-manboobs. My shirts were XL and my pants were 38 waist. The collars of dress shirts were hangman’s knots and suitcoats were sausage casings.

Five years ago, in early 2019, I was invited to a class at a local boxing club. Did I mention I hadn’t worked out in 28 years? I found workouts boring. Or intimidating: I didn’t want to be the fat bald guy in a massive fitness center who was wheezing on a treadmill or struggling under weights. And if that were true, punching something for an hour was certainly far outside my interest, not to mention my personality.

Coming into the class, I didn’t expect anything to change, even if a small voice between my ears told me that I really, really needed an exercise routine. But I’d been ignoring that guidance my entire adult life.

In that first 1-hour class, I thought I was going to die.

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Commission: Tildy Silverleaf by Danny Givens

For a while, I’ve wanted to hire some illustrators to help me populate this site with more imagery. Until the book was finalized, however, I knew it would be a distraction to help me procrastinate. Believe me, writers have an endless variety of options to help with that. Just look at our search history.

Now that I’m working on publishing the book, I have time. I recently hired Danny Givens, who was recommended by another creator I admire. Danny was looking for work and I was looking to hire. Sometimes, it’s as simple as that.

I’ve worked with enough illustrators, designers, and writers to know when to provide direction and when to butt out so they can follow their creative impulses. I’m not going to dictate lines and shading any more than I’m going to dictate seasonings to a chef. It’s the same kind of freedom I appreciate when I’ve taken on a writing job. In my experience, it results in a frictionless relationship. And that’s certainly what I experienced here.

In a recent conversation with another illustrator, I described my philosophy for my art.

I want to give readers enough detail for a scene that allows them to complete the picture in their own minds. It’s a kind of hand-off. In this way, however, I relinquish some control of the story and ownership of it. And that’s perfectly fine. If an artist wants to maintain iron-fisted control over the interpretation of their work, they probably have to keep it hidden from the world. And unshared art is a shame, IMO.

So, I provided some basics about the character and suggested four types of scenes that might make a good visual:

  • Solitude: Tildy perched impossibly upon a branch
  • Action: fighting some of the monsters in the book
  • Friendship: saving her friend Marklin
  • Family: time with her adoptive mother

I let him choose what spoke to him, and then I provided some specifics. Here’s the first sketch, which captured the essence of the scene I provided.

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Chapter One available

Chapter One available

As I mentioned in a previous post that announced the Prologue, I’ve started working on publishing my book, Tildy Silverleaf and the Starfall Omen. As I release chapters, I plan to write an accompanying post that provides a behind-the-scenes look at the work. To skip right to reading the new chapter, click here: Chapter One – Spring in Dappledown.

I started my writing with Chapter One, not the Prologue, because getting a feel for my protagonist and her home were crucial to understanding whether I had a story worth pursuing. I needed to establish my unnamed hero, her home, and the witch she reluctantly called “mother”. The ideas flowed effortlessly from thought to word, and Tildy, as she would became known, nearly flew from the page into life.

I had something.

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What do you call a book without a cover?

What do you call a book without a cover?

I wish I had a better punchline for that set-up. It’s been a long day.

Let’s try another one: if an author writes a story and it doesn’t have a cover, is it still a book?

OK, OK, now I’m just procrastinating.

In a recent post about publishing my book, I mentioned looking for a cover designer. An online gaming buddy connected me with a graphic artist in Australia named Hoomie. Her portfolio was excellent and I found her to be a consummate professional. And as the conversation progressed…I knew she would be out of my price range. That’s on me: I have champagne tastes and a lite beer budget. It’s unfortunate because I liked her and was excited to see what we could accomplish together.

What I was able to witness, however, was an expert who knew the right questions to ask. It required me to articulate things I knew – things churning about in the cauldron between my ears – but hadn’t put into words. I find this extremely valuable because it’s challenging to distill thousands of hours of writing time into an engaging and succinct description. I’ve written about the importance of it here: Learn about your writing by talking with people.

The following questions are among the things I will continue to contemplate in this and future writing projects.

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Writing Exercise: Monday Positivity

I’ve been trying to work on my positivity.

Correction, I’ve been working on my positivity.

CORRECTION: I have improved my positivity.

It’s tough. I have a pragmatic, neurodiverse, and often all-or-nothing view of the world. I like to identify problems and find creative ways to fix them. I’ve often said that the old Lexus commercials of the 1990s especially resonated with me.

a car with martini glasses stacked in a pyramid on its hood
Lexus: The Relentless Pursuit of Perfection

As I’ve matured, I’ve come to understand that this also creates the relentless pursuit of imperfection. Nothing is ever good enough, which often means, things remain bad until they are. It’s a helluva thing to overcome to publish a book. But if I put my “reason mind” to work (If you want to publish, you have to stop puttering about), it begins to drown out the “emotion mind” that’s often loudest in my head (Just one more edit and it’ll be perfect. Just one more. You’re so close. But just one more.)

This morning, I was looking for a way to start my Monday with a positive attitude, which is tough for many of us. Part of our social contract in America is commiserating over the start of the work week. It’s probably a multi-million dollar industry, when you consider all the merchandise dedicated to grumpy Mondays.

I thought back to how good my Friday was. It started with this: A Day Bright, and Full of Promise. It was a simple writing exercise that got my brain moving, and the creative outlet got those feel-goods coursing through my veins.

Instead of simply jumping into work, with who knows what surprises awaiting me, I took a few minutes to jot this down in a coffee shop.

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Chapter available: Prologue

A few weeks ago, I started publishing my book on this site. My intent was to finally, actively, truly work toward publishing it in full digital and physical formats, instead of cowing to those fears that always tell you: It’s not good enough. It’ll never be good enough. There’s a point where the author has to listen to voices that aren’t internal. When Trusted Readers regularly provide positive feedback and encouragement, that should carry more weight.

It does carry more weight.

This post isn’t simply an announcement, though you can start reading this chapter here: Prologue: The Children’s Gifts. Consider it a behind-the-scenes look at how a chapter and book come to life. I might not have this context for every chapter I release, but we’ll see. It’s very easy for a writer to procrastinate when fun new post ideas come to mind.

Prologues have been integral to fantasy books for decades. Thoughts on this are cyclical: from “must-have” to “cliche” to “must-have” and around again. IMO, if your writing is chasing what’s fashionable, you’re doing your story a disservice. You’re also not being honest with your Readers, which to me, is the more egregious matter.

Early on, I knew I wanted a prologue for each of my books, and they would all have a corresponding epilogue, as well. This was part of a larger decision: each book is told from the hero’s point of view. You know what they’re thinking, you see the world through their biases, you see how they grow based on their reactions to stress and other factors. Which meant I had a problem for the antagonists of the series. How do I help the Reader understand the machinations of their schemes?

I didn’t want to keep any of that hidden from Readers. In Lord of the Rings, you get a limited sense of Sauron’s plans. The Harry Potter series offers a little more visibility to Voldemort through a prologue or monologue. I wanted more for my Readers.

And so, the bookends of the story are devoted to the primary antagonists of the series: the dark god Delosh and Its thrall, the Mellifluent, the last survivor of a genocide committed by its master. This is where I communicate their motivations and plans, but also how the actions of our heroes affect those plans.

When I wrote the prologue, I took inspiration from the cinematic opening to the Fellowship of the Ring and the writing of Tolkien himself. It was formal and grand; it had depth and history; and it had necessary exposition to set up the entire series, not just the first book. It was heavy.

It was too much. And Trusted Readers were right to call me on it.

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