The mind of J. R. R. Tolkien amazes me.  Here is a man who developed his own fictional world, with history, peoples, languages, stories, and legends to an extent that no other author has ever been able to do.  I will not even say that Tolkien is the Homer or Virgil of our day – in my opinion, he far surpassed both of them put together.
I have long wanted to do what Tolkien has done – author my own world, with its own unique history, its own languages and peoples, a place where my own fantastical epics could live and thrive.  I have wanted it to be like Tolkien’s Middle-earth is some ways: exotic races, mythical creatures, and things too extraordinary to be a part of our world.  Yet, in other ways I have wanted it to be more like our world:  Eru llúvitar, that is, God as represented by Tolkien in the fictional setting of Arda, is in my opinion too far removed from his creation.  Although he made man and elves and awoke them, he then left it to the Valar to deal with them, and delegated much of his creation to them.  In my opinion, this seems inconsistent with God’s nature – although this is perhaps subjective; some might argue with that, and Tolkien’s history of Arda is still beautiful.  I nonetheless can not bring myself to create a world where God is not relationally involved with his creation, without layers of Valar in between.
Differences aside, I must admit that Tolkien has forged the path for epic medieval fantasy that I am now traversing.  And I find myself repeating many of his footsteps.  Long before he published The Hobbit, Tolkien was working on his languages, and the mythical history behind them.  After he wrote The Hobbit, he wanted to go back and write an account of the history of Arda and Middle-earth, although he had little hope of anyone taking interest in it beside himself.  In his own words, “Those whose advise and opinion I sought corrected little hope to no hope.”
In some ways, I face the same dilemma.  The Érenyel is my Silmarillion.  It is a history of the world I am trying to create, and its function is not that of a novel.  The little that I have thus far written seems awkward in many ways.  As Kyleigh pointed out in a comment, “It does seem a bit like ‘It happened’ … there could be more conversation and action instead of just ‘They did this.’”  And I agree.  I think it bothers me more than it does all of you kind generous readers at Apricotpie.  I am not sure what to do about it.
Having my brother Ezra home for Christmas, I asked him for advice.
“Stop writing it on Apricotpie.  You’re wasting your time.”
“What?  Come again, Ezra?” I said.
“Apricotpie does not matter in a writing career except to continue interest in writing,” he replied.
“Interest on whose part?”  (Never mind that, like Tolkien, I’m not interested in writing as a career.)
“I mean, except to incubate interest in writing,” he said.
“You still didn’t answer my question, Ezra.  Interest on whose part?”
“Yours.  Well, maybe some others as well, but mainly yours.”
I explained to Ezra that I was primarily writing this to force myself to hammer out a history for my fictional world.
“Excuses,” he said.  (He clearly did not understand where Tolkien had gone.)  “You need to draw yourself a map.”
“Ezra, you know I’ve spent hours and hours drawing maps.”
“Not that kind of map!!”  Ezra shook his head in exasperation.  “I mean notes.  Jot down an outline of your world’s early history – don’t actually write a work like the Érenyel until you’ve written a good novel or two.  You’re putting the cart before the horse.”
“Chronologically, Ezra, The Érenyel is the horse’s nostrils.”
“Chronologically, but not practical in order of publishing.”
Well, I asked my brother for advice, and he gave it, so I thank him.  But I don’t agree with his conclusions for what I should do with The Érenyel.  Neither would Tolkien, for that matter.  My brother's goals are very different from mine: he's always thinking about publishing and practicality; I'm concerned with developing a universe, as Tolkien was.  I am not interested in publishing The Érenyel, not at least until (and if) the other stories I have come up with gain their own merit, as did Tolkien’s The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings.
So why am I writing The Érenyel?  And why am I posting it on Apricotpie?
Because, as I told my brother, I want to hammer out, for my own sake, a history and foundation for my world.  And I am posting it on Apricotpie, because there I can receive comments and criticisms of it, and perhaps also bring some enjoyment to those who read it.
I nonetheless still face a problem:  The Érenyel is thus far an awkward read.  In some places, it gives novel-like detail; in others, it just states what happened.  I am unable to fill out some parts, or take out other parts, and thus it has an inconsistent style.  I am not sure what to do.
Yet, I am determined to press on.