Note: This post is an excerpt from my book, A Cobbler’s Tale. Copyright © 2023 Alex Brown. All rights reserved.
Author’s Note
Dear Reader, I felt you deserved a bit of an explanation before reading this book. Why? Well, A Cobbler’s Tale is a strange, little book. I’m not ashamed of that—I’m actually quite pleased with what it came to be—but I don’t want you to read it without you understanding what it is meant to be. And that is this: it’s meant to be a strange, little book. If you go into reading it with that mindset, you’ll be just fine.
A Cobbler’s Tale, as well as the rest of the stories I’d like to tell in the magical world of Minz, is told by a fictional narrator who exists in the world itself—a fellow writing under the name of “The Storyteller Vern.” Thus, you’ll see his name on the front cover of the book, as well as my own. There’s one more name on there, but we’ll get to that.
I went back and forth on how to write this series and decided that for good or ill, I wanted these books to be written in the voice of The Storyteller Vern.
What can be said about him? Well, Vern is an oft-unreliable narrator. He’s a little full of himself and overconfident in his ability to tell a story. That’s putting it lightly. He’s tangential prone, and in need of editorial advice from time to time.
Which is why there is also a fictional editor—a fellow by the name of Barnabas E. Wooldridge. His presence is seen throughout these books in the footnotes at the bottom of the page. He’ll comment on the story itself—trying to explain things the narrator did not—to the reader throughout the course of the tale. He’ll also mention things to the narrator himself—much like a teacher (or editor) leaving comments on a paper they’re grading.
Here’s my intent for this series—what it could become given enough time: as it stands, the first book, A Cobbler’s Tale isn’t a perfect story. It isn’t polished as you would expect from a published novel. It is typo-free (for the most part), but it reads very much like it was written by someone who has little experience in crafting a well-told story. There are parts of it that are better than others, but I wanted it to look like the sort of story someone writes as they’re still trying to figure out their craft. Progressively, as the series goes along, the books will improve—much like a book written at the beginning of an author’s career looks vastly different from one written after they’ve got a few under their belt, so to speak. Some will be short; some longer than others.
I don’t know how else to explain it or promote it—which I realize is a terrible marketing plan that will probably backfire on me. I can’t promise that you’ll enjoy all of it, but I can promise that I snuck in puns, satire, jokes, tavern brawls, digressions of wit (or foolishness), philosophy, poking fun at stories in general (and fantasy tropes in specific), and so, so much more.
If you take a chance on it—thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. I hope this strange, little story makes you feel a wide array of emotions. Happy, sad, contemplative—maybe even angry that I would write such a thing as this. Hopefully it makes you laugh, or at the very least shake your head in exasperation. If you enjoy it, I’d humbly ask that you share it with someone else—a friend who would enjoy it, someone going on a moderately long car trip (it isn’t that long of a book), or an enemy who would be tortured by its existence, it’s really up to you.
Respectfully,
Alex Brown
Editor’s Preface
I realize it’s a break in tradition for an editor to have more than a mention in the acknowledgements of a novel, much less an entire preface. But this entire novel is a break in tradition. I could not, in good conscience, have my name be associated with this particular novel without first having the chance to explain myself to you, Dear Reader.
You must understand—I did not go looking for the story you are about to read. Once I was made aware of it, part of me wished with all my heart that I never was. A strange claim to make, certainly. Especially since it sounds as though I am trying to keep you from reading it. I am not.
I am trying to keep you from reading it without proper preparation. You can read most books without ever needing to know anything about the person who wrote it. This is not one of those stories.
To understand the story, you must understand the man who wrote it, and that’s easier said than done. What can be said of Vern? He makes many audacious claims throughout the course of this tale. If I were you, I would take those claims with a grain of salt, Dear Reader.
I myself will speak of which I am knowledgeable, and that of which I am not, I will take great care to speak in such a way that does not give offense to those who are knowledgeable of such things. Vern has no such reservations. He writes about things he does not know with such confidence that it’d be inspiring… if he weren’t blatantly wrong. He is young, Dear Reader. You must forgive him for that. The young tend to speak with certainty even about matters which are quite uncertain to them and everyone else. It is the arrogance of youth that will hopefully lessen with age.
You might be wondering how I became associated with Vern if I did not go looking for this story. Well, to answer that, he approached me with a proposition and a story. The very same story you hold in your hands, in fact. Vern told me that he had in mind to write an incredible series which would span across decades. I’ll admit, I was intrigued. How could I not be?
So, I read the manuscript. And it was, quite frankly, terrible. But I caught glimpses, Dear Reader, of what it could be, given proper care and attention. I told Vern as much. I offered him my own wisdom and experience. I told him that together, we could make it better. We could make it lasting, similar to the works of renown which remain on the hearts and minds of those hearing them for a long time.
That sort of writing is not all that is written here. But it is a start. It may not be to your liking. That is fine, not all stories speak to everyone. In fact, very few do. All I ask, Dear Reader, is that you give this story a chance. That will be enough.
Respectfully,
Barnabas E. Wooldridge
Editor in Chief of the Tales of Minz
Foreword
It has been said by very knowledgeable folk that the world of Minz started as a miniscule seed, drifting through the vast, barren void. It was from this seed that the world sprung forth and bloomed into existence, that same existence in which it still stands to this day. Of course, it should be noted that such very knowledgeable folk, while gifted in their respective fields, had no knowledge pertaining to the formation of the Cosmos (or to gardening and the study of plants, for that matter).
Regardless of how Minz was first formed (which is really just a clever way of avoiding the question altogether), it was. Geologists and cartographers have noted that, though the topographical features have shifted over the centuries and millennia following Minz’s forming, the inner core of the planet still remains the exact same. You can liken this to aging. No matter what the years do to you, no matter how many wrinkles you accumulate, you are still you.
What can be said of Minz? I am no geologist or cartographer, nor am I a skilled artist. I am, however, slightly talented with words of descriptive nature. I create pictures of a different kind, with a different means than paints or brushes.
Together, you and I are about to embark on a journey, the course of which we shall both be at work to shape. Your imagination, paired with my painted words, will be far better than any actual picture. There are plenty of authors who go to a great deal of trouble to put a perfect picture in their reader’s mind of the setting, scene, and story being told. I am no such author.
Allow me to introduce myself. I am the great chronicler, the incredibly talented purveyor of the people and world of Minz, a storyteller whose imaginative ability to tell a tale knows no bounds, a former writer for the Minz Times (having cut ties with them to seek a greater goal: bringing the Tales of Minz to you). My name is The Storyteller Vern.
The one to whom the cover of this book also belongs is my editor, Barnabas E. Wooldridge. He gathered my extensive notes and research into a more manageable amount for you to handle, but he also insisted on commenting from time to time on parts of my most magnificent masterpiece. That will be evident in the footnotes.
You should know that his comments are in no way expressive of my opinions or views. They’re not even remotely insightful or helpful in any way at all. As the foremost expert regarding the world of Minz, you should listen when I tell you to disregard these anecdotal asides and atrocities altogether.[1]
You’re probably wondering how such a profitable partnership came about. Well, such a tale only goes to show my generous nature (which is only surpassed by my eloquent elocution).
I have penned stories, the likes of which this world has never before seen or heard. My stories have moved kings and queens to tears, and caused the bards and song-writers to weep. I have told tales which have caused the common man to roar with laughter and merriment, spilling their drinks and rolling on the tavern floor. I have seen the mysteries of Minz and danced among the dying stars. In my many travels, trials, and tribulations, I have gathered great and terrible stories to bring to you. This vast wealth of knowledge I offer freely (for a price, of course).
However, just as a king is not directly involved in the menial tasks and labors of the kingdom, but instead delegates and directs other, lesser individuals to do them for him, I have decided to do the same in the compilation of this great work. Hence, my editor. But rest assured, these words are all my own, and all written here is true. If there is any part of it with which you find conflict, error, or disagreement, I assure you—it is my editor’s fault entirely.[2]
I have taken time to tend to these stories, caring for them like a gardener caring for his tomato plant as if it’s the apple of his eye. The only words that remain are the ones absolutely necessary to tell the tales as best I’m able. I have pruned this tale carefully with the skills I acquired from my extensive venture in the public sector as a journalist for the Minz Times before taking my talents to the private sector (even though they begged me to stay, having no better journalists or sales revenue than when I worked for them).[3]
I discovered something as I scoured the world for tales to tell. Something I am sure you are quite familiar with in your own experience with stories, especially in the myths and legends of old. What I found was this: all those stories are overtold and reused like leftovers thrown into a large cauldron perpetually stirred by an old hag named Marge, to be dished out and served as something claiming to be completely different, even though they’re the same ingredients first dumped into the cauldron. It’s absurd to think that anyone would benefit from such a meal![4]
Regardless, that’s what these stories we’re being force-fed are: served up, rehashed stories well past their expiration date, already smelling rotten. The thing is, most writers think if they add a potato to the other ingredients in their stories, it’s suddenly another story altogether. It’s not. All they did was add another vegetable to the mix, and not even one of the good ones!
But I digress. Allow me to explain what I mean by all of this. The legends and epics all follow a recognizable plot and storyline. The end result can be seen on the first page, without ever needing to reach the last. For example: a battle builds between good and evil. Good eventually wins, of course, triumphing over evil, and everyone is happy, regardless of the fact that (according to the pattern of the stories themselves) their world is due for another potentially world-ending, cataclysmic event in the next five to ten years with the birth and rise of the world’s next villain. It’s predictable, and I cannot stand that, nor do I wish to subject you to such atrocious garbage writing.
Therefore, the tales which I bring before you are not the stories of evil wizards bent on destruction, or of knights battling dragons to win the maiden’s hand (which, as an aside, is often inaccurately portrayed in literature as a great and glorious conquest).
I’ve interviewed knights who slaughtered the great serpents, and they’ve all told me—to a man—that the last thing maidens wanted to do after witnessing such a gruesome sight as a dragon being slayed was to fall into the knight’s blood-splattered arms, suitably wooed by a stranger who displayed various degrees of violence.
No sensible person would run into the arms of someone who just slaughtered a bunch of bunnies, who only did it with the expectation that such a horrendous and vile act would impress them and leave them weak in the knees. It’s honestly insulting.
Such writers demean their characters and insult the intelligence of their audience, and I promise you, I have no intention of doing so. Stories full of fanciful fiction are far from fact. Thus, my stories are not just of brave knights who battle their ancient foes. My stories don’t go the way you expect. There’s always more to them. That’s my goal. These are the tales of the people of Minz, who often find themselves in uncommon situations and circumstances. But their stories are no less heroic or praiseworthy. Just as we come into other people’s lives for a brief moment, not knowing everything there is to know about them and their story, we leave just as quickly. So, too, with these, the Tales of Minz, an anthology of tales told by a master storyteller.
[1] Vern is fond of alliteration, Dear Reader, for which I apologize. He’s also a rather unreliable narrator with oft-confusing comments, which require an explanation for the sake of clarity. I’ve attempted to do so with these footnotes. I tried to explain to Vern that an editor is supposed to help an author improve their writing, but he took very few of my suggestions. Well, it’s a start. Some is better than none, after all.
[2] Vern might be oblivious to the fact that in order to edit his writing, I have to actually read it.
[3] I fact-checked this because it seemed unlikely. Vern was actually fired after two weeks of work for negligence and presenting biased opinions, not facts. I checked the sales revenue claim, too. They actually plummeted for those two issues of the Minz Times.
[4] He went on for several pages with this analogy. I’ve convinced him to cut it down. More than anything, I think Vern has a distaste for soup.
