Happy Holidays, one and all.

Achilles heel of the impatient.

(originally posted 3.17.2008, Writingscape V1.0)

I had to steal that phrase (a right-on definition of manuscript revisions if I’ve ever heard one) from homeboy Nathan Bransford. I could not help myself. His post from a few days ago, asking writers how they revise their work, and the comments that post garnered, suggests what we already know–that the different ways writers do revisions is as vast in number as the stars in the Andromeda Galaxy (about a trillion). And that what works without fail for one person, would fail miserably for another.

My revision process usually goes like this, for a short story or novel chapter:
I spew it out, not all willy-nilly, but in as directed a stream as I can get it, even if I don’t have all the research finished (if any), even if I don’t yet know X about Character Y waaaay down the road in Chapter Z. When the muse says it’s done fermenting and needs to come into the world, I can’t hold it any longer and must “vomit” or go mad. (The more I share time in a character’s head, the easier it is for him/her to tell me about X and make everything hunky-dory.) This could take anywhere from a day to a week, depending on the piece. Douglas Clegg has an interesting post on That Elusive Spew Draft HERE.

Then comes smoothing out the monster, for about a week to two weeks. Perhaps more, if it’s hefty. (You know when it’s time to stop, because the things you’re finding to change s-l-o-w to a trickle.) There’s tightening up. Checking the flow of the physical action. Chopping extraneous words, words that disrupt the tone, awkward phrases, confusing pronouns, repetitive words, unnecessary tags, bad transitions, etc. (I once used “finally” five times on one page. The drama had me blinded, I swear.) Checking for point of view slips and characterization slips. Finishing any research and putting that in. Information/explanation dumps are OUT.

Then comes polishing the monster, where I print it out and really look at it on the page. I read it slowly and make certain each scene moves the plot (rather than only giving me a thrill), and try to catch plot holes, stiff or “As you know, Bob” dialogue, weird formatting, typos, an equal balance of passive/nonpassive, sentences out of balance that don’t sound musical to my inner ear. A good balance of setting, and description. Then it’s time to rest, because there’s nothing quite like looking at something with fresh eyes after completely ignoring it for a few days–tiny things pop right up at me.

If it’s a piece I need to market soon, I’ll hand it over to my critique-mates. Then give it one final shiny coat of lacquer when they’re done butcherin’. If I’ve screwed up some grammar (not on purpose), syntax, or something, their eagle eyes will catch it. (I keep the Grammar check OFF, because it really interferes with my voice and takes me out of the moment. But I do okay without it.) With a novel, it’ll get a second coat of lacquer after the entire book is done and has gone through a blanket critique as well. Finis.

Way back at the Beginning of Creation, I wrote everything in longhand in those huge college-ruled notebooks. Can you imagine me doing all of this then, without cut-, copy-and-paste? Nuh-uh. So. How do you handle revisions?

*P.S. I saw an awesome PBS documentary on celebrated writer Willa Cather this morning. Pretty motivating. If she could do it…

Have yourself a Skewed Throne!

Joshua Palmatier, author of the Throne of Amenkor series (DAW), is giving us all a chance to dig into the first book of that series, The Skewed Throne, online!  He has gotten permission from his publisher and will be generously posting the first six chapters over six weeks (the first three are already up). 

Josh’s post is here, on his The Creation of Wrath Suvane blog. 

This is an excellent opportunity for readers and writers alike, so don’t miss out.

If Asian Horror were a man, I’d marry it.

(originally posted March 9, 2008 on Writingscape V1.0)

I’ve been having a love affair with Asian horror (Korean, Japanese, and Thai, in particular) for nigh on a year now. Why, you wonder? Let me count the ways.

No one is a ghost just for the sake of being a ghost. Plots are woven around subtle issues, and controversies in the culture, and avenging spirits come from that. (One issue I’ve enjoyed seeing played out is the Parents/Traditional/Old School versus the Children/New Age/New School power struggle that’s been going on for some years in real life. In a culture where a guy moving in with the wrong girl can affect the stock prices of a billion-dollar corporation, you can do a lot with that.) It’s not that someone was done wrong. They weren’t just treated badly and died, or accidentally killed. They were done wrong in so many intricate, interlocking ways, that they were forced into becoming the avenging creatures we see, almost against their own will. Which makes for awesome ending twists.

It’s an excellent study for tightening up my own writing. All stories, whether vignette, hour long, or movie length, are tightly woven when it comes to plot and completely cohesive, with no room for the extraneous. Nothing ever seems put in for the sake of the special effect; rather, they find an effect for the scene. Unlike the Hollywood mentality, which works the exact opposite. “Awesome new FX! Where can we stick it?” (Would you really like to know?  

That goes for the dialogue, too. It is every bit as tight as the plot.  No on-the-nose talk.  No monologues of explanation. Which makes the subtext (the stuff you read between the lines) just exquisite. From Ryeong (The Ghost, 2004, South Korea), with my subtext in red:

Doctor:  “Does swimming help?”
Girl:  “Yes, it’s so soothing. Like my mother’s arms.” I miss Mom’s hugs. Why does she hate me?
Doctor:  “Is she still the same?” So. She’s still treating you like crap.
(girl nods)
Doctor:  “I’m sorry this is the last time I eat cookies with you.” This long, trying relationship is finally ending.
Girl:  “Not relieved? I know I stained your career.” You tried to fix me, but you failed. And everyone watched it happen.
Doctor:  “It breaks my heart to hear that.” You have been a pain, but I care a lot about you anyway. “Your brain waves are normal, but the heart could relapse. Don’t forget to take your medicine.” Girl hasn’t been good at doing what she’s told up to this point—a pain. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. As time goes by, your memory might come back.”
Girl:  “It’s okay. I’ll consider it as an umbrella I forgot on the bus.” I hope my memory doesn’t come back—though I’m not sure why. Uh-oh…!

Ear and eye candy. They do wonders with less incidental music and more silence. And with unusual sounds that you can’t identify until they’re upon you. And ordinary sounds that you just don’t identify with horror. Until. (I thought they were signaling me that something bad was about to happen. It was only a subway train.) Inventive shots and angles—many different ways of shooting the same thing. Sometimes you’re looking at a ghost and you don’t even know it. Until. Last but not least—their ghosts are always doing things I haven’t seen ghosts do before. And that’s the ticket.

Incidentally, I see a new Shutter (2008) is being released to American audiences. I’m pretty sure I won’t be seeing it. The one that spawned it from 2004, the Thai release of the same name, happens to be the most outstanding Asian horror film I’ve seen to date. No way will this one outshine it. (The trailer shows one of the original devices used in 2004—fantastic—but it also shows that this version is indeed polluted with overused Hollywood junk. A shame.)

To people in Asia, and hardcore fans, Asian horror is probably mundane. Seen one, you’ve seen them all. Nothing special. But to an American so jaded on predictable American horror that she could puke, it is scary and sweet. I’ll be on board for a while yet.

People excuse terrorism; I’m not one of them.

Let the buffalo chase the tiger. I dare you.

(originally posted March 3, 2008 on Writingscape V1.0)

While surfing to see if there were any documentaries I might need to check out on the Toob, I ran across something on ANIMAL PLANET called Living With Tigers, where a trainer was teaching two zoo-born tiger cubs (named Julie and Ron) to hunt and live in the wild, so they would survive when released. It was a long, slow process that began when they were three or four months old, I think. And when I came into the fray, the bengal cubs were about a year old (humongous monsters).

This has to do with fiction writing, I swear. Just hang in there.

Though I do have a tiger in a novel, I already have all the info I need on him. I wouldn’t have stopped on the channel but for one thing that so compelled me, all I could do was sit there and watch. And laugh. Tiger is low to the ground, sneaking up on African water buffalo herd. A big buffalo spots tiger. Everyone runs and the race is on, right? How many times have we all seen that? Didn’t happen, though. Tiger froze, began backing away. Buffalo comes trotting over, steam pouring out of its nostrils. Tiger turns tail and runs for its life, with buffalo right on its heels. Rest of the herd joins in. Apex predator is being seriously pursued by prey.

Later, I found out that the tiger hadn’t learned to recognize what was LIVE food and what wasn’t yet. (It learned pretty quickly after that, though.) My point is–sometimes hooking a reader involves flipping the script on your protagonist and putting him/her in a situation people least expect him/her to be in. It could be something as simple as the world’s most talented thief getting mugged himself–and mugged well. Flip that script.

It certainly got me. I ended up watching the whole thing.

What do you do when your writing group has nothing to critique?

Why, share writing routines and current projects. Talk about discipline, and who is refocusing himself by finding a mentor (nice going, Jeff!). Discuss what conferences are most useful for, which ones are the best to go to, and the professional critique a member just received at one. Amuse yourselves with tales of summer vacations, here and abroad. Rake members who aren’t in attendance over the coals so hard, they can feel the heat (just kidding!).

We had two guests to boot, at our end of July critiquefest–Kevin Howard, of Launch Zone: Hands-On Science, and his sister-in-law Ana from Barcelona, Spain. (Ana is penning an epic fantasy, but in Spanish. We won’t be able to weasel our way into reading it. Gah! Truth told, I think we had way too much fun at that meeting.

(Shouldn’t you, though?)

Just the facts, ma’am. (Help for writers #10.)

I’ve been reading Editorial Anonymous  for some time.  Why I am only now putting it in my blog links simply escapes me (look to your left).  The blog is by a children’s book editor, but the true anecdotes and good advice she gives pertains to us ALL, regardless of genre.

So be smart and take a peek.  Regularly.

Just the facts, ma’am. (Help for writers #9.)

How NOT To Write a Story, a most excellent blog post by J.A. Konrath.

Truly, there are conflicting Dos and Don’ts out there, so many in fact that you may find yourself quite confused.  There are a few things on Konrath’s Don’t list that other sources might not agree with.  (I’m all for watching your exclamation points and using them as sparingly as possible, but not eliminating them altogether.  It’s stupid, if you don’t use a tag, to have your character yell with a period or a comma.  “I said get out of there,” doesn’t cut it in the yelling department.)  However… if you’re still in the beginning and intermediate stages of honing your craft and finding your way, Konrath’s list will definitely give you a leg up on the competition and erase the “amateur” stamp on your forehead.

He knows what he’s talking about.

Evolution… yet again.

(originally posted November 11, 2007 on Writingscape V1.0)

Well. It’s happened again, y’all. I am evolving, much like David MacCallum (of THE MAN FROM UNCLE fame) did on his OUTER LIMITS episode back in the 1960s. You know, the one where his very human cranium bulged and grew to a tremendous size during an experiment gone terribly awry? I can still see it now, pulsing, glowing, with the veins all distended, and his wife/fiancee was all like, So HOW am I supposed to muster up any passion in the sack tonight looking at THAT??– Anyway, back to the point…

When I wrote a post last year about my first brush with personal evolution, that was pretty huge, to go from years of writing everything linear (and I mean everything, scene by scene in a straight line, never out of sequence, not because I chose to, but because that’s just the way my brain functioned) to actually writing some things out of sequence. And I wondered when such a thing might happen again. Well, I have to wonder no more.

Y’all know I’m character-driven, whether it be reading or writing. I’ve always discovered characters that pulled stories out of me, rather than events. Today, for the first time ever, an OBJECT fell out of my muse that begged for a story. A dangerous, inanimate object that could fit in the palm of your hand. Even better, there is a novella I started some time ago, but put on the back-burner because there wasn’t enough story to flesh out. Pairing that protagonist with this object would be awesome. Each one is just what the other needs.

Comfort zones are great. But you know, this evolution thing ain’t so bad either.
_________________________

In other evolutionary news… A protagonist in Douglas Clegg’s AFTERLIFE was discussing something I hadn’t really thought much about before, about how the natural Stream of Consciousness that flows between a species (for example, migrating birds, ant colonies, etc., the way they feel each other’s needs and direction without speech) disappears the higher up the food chain you go. Rather troubling, don’t you think, that the supposed Top Dog has the least amount of Stream, if any at all? Are we perhaps fooling ourselves when it comes to the top of the totem pole? Hm?

Just a thought.

It’s the most macabre time of the year.

(Well, not now, it isn’t.  But it was when I originally posted this entry on October 31, 2007 on V1.0!  Bwahahahaha…)

What’s my idea of fun this time of year? Cuddling up on the couch all day with the creepiest, funniest, scariest–and don’t forget the classics–scream fest marathons the Toob has to offer. An easy feat, as several channels are competing to get viewers’ attention with that very thing. So that’s what I’ll be doing. (Okay, I admit it– I cheated and already started marathoning back on Saturday. Hehe. It’s been great.)

This is a far cry from what I USED to do.

I remember my son’s very first Halloween costume, when he was eight months old. A pirate! And not one of those perfect little store-bought, Caribbean things–couldn’t afford that then. An oversized striped shirt from his closet, a silk scarf tied around his head, and my huge, clip-on earrings. He just laughed (because he had no idea how ridiculous he looked, of course). I still have that picture somewhere. Thus began his career in costume, and before it was over, he’d be a cop, a robber (holding homeowners up for candy), a ghoul (a store-bought thing that made him break out in hives), Jack-O-Lantern (or PumpkinHead, whatever), a gangster (a la Capone), and Jason from Friday the XIII (hockey mask and all), to name a few.

I don’t recall being much else myself as a kid but a black cat every year, but as an adult, I couldn’t very well let my kid upstage me, now could I? Let’s see… *shaking the dust out of the ol’ memory banks* The Mummy’s Bride. Torn white bed sheets and an old bridal veil dragged in the dirt, gravel, and bugs of my grandma’s driveway made a great shroud. Wrapping my entire body in gauze finished that trick. As Jamiel went up to a house to get his treat, I’d stand under a street lamp, the breeze blowing my shroud, and scare the crap out of whoever opened the door and any kids on the street. I swear, they would RUN. Awesome. The Catholic Nun. Made the costume from a pattern, and it looked SO real, strangers knocked themselves out being courteous to me ALL DAY. They opened every door I encountered, fell over themselves giving up their seats in my doctor’s office, carried my stuff, gave me loving smiles, tidings, and great cheer so that I would acknowledge them with the sign of the cross. Cops even stopped traffic for my car (do nuns drive?). It was great. The Great Pumpkin. Made from another pattern, right down to the beanie hat with a vine coming out of it. Had to go through the bank drive-thru that day to make a deposit. And who was sitting there at the window to serve me? Why, Raggedy Ann, of course.

The California Raisin. My workplace got into it as well, big time. There were contests every year not just for individuals, but for departments. The year we were the California Raisins and put on a stage show lip-syncing “I Heard It Through The Grapevine” got us second place. And extra bookings. The Mother of Beetlejuice. I kid you not. We (my department) turned our floor into a graveyard–we even had a casket with a body in it–turned ourselves into hideous ghouls, and did our rendition of Michael Jackson’s Thriller, complete with dancing and strobe lights. We won FIRST Place that year. Uh-huh. We kicked arse.

Ah. Those were the days. But things changed, as they usually do. Nutjobs started putting razor blades and drugs in candy, and snatching kids and such, and some trick-or-treaters started home-invading homeowners, so suddenly it was no longer safe on either side of a person’s door. Jamiel and I abandoned traditional trick-or-treating for festivals (church and secular) and hay rides and the like, which was just as fun, only you got barbeque, games, music, and good company. Truth told, I don’t know why people still let their kids traditional-trick-or-treat, seeing as the nutjobs are not only still out there, but have multiplied exponentially.

My son’s twenty-four now, a man grown. And we still laugh ourselves silly over our old adventures. Life was rough and we went without sometimes, but the good times we had made us feel rich indeed. Perhaps one day I’ll costume-up again, just once for old time’s sake. For now, I’m curling myself up in the dark with a good thriller fest and scaring myself stupid. *insert looooooong Vincent Price thriller laugh here*

P.S. This is the time when I most wonder why I haven’t attempted to write some horror…

Just the facts, ma’am. (Help for writers #8.)

The sum of the parts– author Janice Hardy’s synopsis tips for genre and plot-heavy stories.  Very detailed, but easy to grasp.

A darned fine post, if I do say so myself.  Go see what you think, and apply it to your own work.  Good luck!

Podcast! Get your podcast!

Critiquemate Will has made a splash.  He’s put the first podcast of his novel A War Between States up on his little corner of the universe, for your listening pleasure.  Critiquemates Jennie and Jeff were also involved in the project.

So what are you waiting for?  Go check it out.

Information download: Canyonlands.

Okay, everybody with characters stomping through canyonlands, here are some helpful tips:

It’s incredibly quiet, and usually dusty, with no snow, though there are snow-capped mountain peaks in the distance. You bake to death in the day and freeze to death at night, with scrub brush and cacti for company. Juniper trees are good for shelter and shade. There are plenty of dry firewood, grasses, and dead tree carcasses to make yourself a big fire, but you may have to get up every hour to feed it. Your odds of survival are based on the Five “W”s:

1. Wood. For burning, and for shelter.
2. Weather. You’d better find places to get into for protection if it gets bad.
3. Widowmakers. Falling things: boulders, tall dead trees, etc.
4. Wigglies. Scorpions, spiders, snakes, etc. These are usually underground during the winter and pose no threat then. [So. Get lost or stranded when it's cold, and your're okay. Right.]
5. Water. Find a good supply. Or else.

Don’t blow directly on the ashes of your fire, or you’ll just disperse them.

Corn chips make great tinder. They burn for a long time because of the oil they were cooked in. [Fritos to the rescue!]

There is a type of wild grass called Mormon tea that you can boil. It be good drinkin’.

If you manage to bait and trap an animal (rats, ground squirrels, etc.), be oh-so-careful of plague while preparing it. Don’t touch it with your bare hands right away; use sharpened sticks or other implements. Singe all the hair off the body over your fire and cook the animal very well done, to take care of diseases and parasites. CHAR the flesh on the outside and discard the entrails (where most parasites live). The inner flesh, heart, liver, and kidneys should be safe for consumption. Save the bones to cook for a broth later.

*A good tip: keep your mind off hunger by being proactive. [Huh. My mind is off hunger just from typing that last paragraph. Eeep.]

Oops–I did it again.

(originally posted 10/16/2007, Writingscape V1.0)

Greetings, everyone! I am quite surprised to be here.

Allow me to introduce myself. I am The Nameless One, She Who Resides in the Outer Reaches of Nirvana, the Method to the Dynastic One’s Madness. But it will be less of a mouthful if you simply call me… Stephe’s muse. She cannot be with you at this moment because, frankly, I have her wound a bit too tightly, so she is taking time to re-center herself. Which means reading Koontz, Clegg, M.D. Benoit, making spaghetti, drinking lots of hot tea with lemon and brandy, and knitting for her LiveJournal pal smeddley. Against her better judgement, I am her guest blogger. Righteous.

Why is she so distracted, you ask? I have this habit, you see, this bad habit that is the sworn duty of every faithful muse, and I have done it to her again–dropped a character on her head that she cannot ignore, straight out of the blue, and said character landed on Stephe’s forehead like a chunk of granite and left a pretty sizable mark. (I saw a ring of teeny sparrows circling her skull like in one of those really old cartoons. Seriously.) That is all I have given her. A female with a bottomless soul wakes up in a small, confined space, with no sense of past, present, or future, and the top coming off of whatever and her squinting at the light, in either fantastic or futuristic surroundings, clean, sleek, and uncluttered. She is calm, cool, collected, and confused. She probably cannot physically speak. Nothing more.

Truth told, that is all Stephe needs and she knows it, despite the melodramatic wailing and moaning she is doing right now. There is a strong story waiting to be told in that tiny bit of nothing, and she will draw that story out in time and enjoy it, without it taking any effort away from her selling of Fantasy Book 1 or writing of Fantasy Book 2. What is she complaining about, anyway? She goes into spasms when I send her a compelling character, and she goes into spasms when I go on vacation. I simply cannot win.

No real worries, however. Stephe gives me hell, but she adores me unconditionally and will never really fire me (my union would not allow that anyway). We are partners, in perfect balance. (Oh all right, my job IS more glamorous than hers, but that is hardly my fault.)

Well. I so hope she lets me do this again. I think she will–so long as I am good and promise not to reveal any of her naughties…

Say what?

“When you are describing a shape, or sound, or tint;
Don’t state the matter plainly, but put it in a hint;
And learn to look at all things with a sort of mental squint.”
~Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (Lewis Carroll)

“All my best thoughts were stolen by the ancients.”
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

“The coroner will find ink in my veins and blood on my typewriter keys.”
~C. Astrid Weber

“Let’s hope the institution of marriage survives its detractors, for without it there would be no more adultery and without adultery two thirds of our novelists would stand in line for unemployment checks.”
~Peter S. Prescott

Answer me this.

(originally posted 9/26/2007, Writingscape v1.0)

What type of character would you most like to write a story around, but haven’t? And why?

I want to bring an intersex character to life so badly. It would be fascinating and profound to explore that human being’s growth as they walk right between two such rigidly-defined worlds. The things such a journey could teach all of us… gives me chills. But I don’t dare attempt it. The tiny nuances and emotions and issues needed to give the characterization justice are just too easy for someone without intimate knowledge to miss.

Ah. Perhaps one day.

Confident, or delusional? It’s quite easy to tell the difference.

J.A. Konrath’s informative post on the differences between Confidence and its hideous stepsister, Delusion.  When you’re a writer.

I’d say he’s spot on.

Just as there is good and bad cholesterol…

(originally posted 9/13/2007, Writingscape v1.0)

…there is good and bad usage of adverbs and adjectives. I’ve always believed that. It’s never made sense to me at all why writers are stomped on for using either one. I mean, the self-righteous indignation and nastiness I’ve heard come from people’s mouths/keyboards is not to be believed. You would think you’d called their mother’s mating habits into question, when all you did was use a blasted adverb.

The key is to NOT use adverbs and adjectives in such a way that they make you lazy and your writing mundane. Use them sparingly (ha!), and cleverly (haha!), to enhance the character’s experience for your reader, and to hone your own skills. Ray Rhamey of Flogging the Quill says it very well here, in my humble opinion. Maybe not all adverbs are bad guys.

If not using them ever is your personal thing, cool; it’s all about preference. If you’re like me and enjoy dabbling in every nook and cranny of this entire pallet we call language, then get to work.

Just the facts, ma’am. (Help for writers #7.)

The New Author blogsite…

…by Brian Knight, a website/blog design specialist and literary fiction author, for those of us who endeavor to become writers.  Lots of information here, along with other author links, resource sites, forums, and even a new annual writing contest for short-short stories and poems.

Hop to it, y’all.

Reprieve.

(originally posted 9/5/2007, Writingscape v1.0)

REPRIEVE

It’s a relief to be dying, finally.

The worse part, so far, has been getting through the thirst and the shriveling, the type that constricted me with such intensity I couldn’t understand why I was still alive. The heat. The deep burning of the sun. It takes more pain to kill you than one would think. Thankfully, I’ve passed that threshold. I’m numb, now.

I’d never dreamed such pain existed. My mother had always provided constant nourishment for me, for all of us… but then the tempest came, the rending and blowing, and we were torn from each other. Mother stood thick and massive, so I’m certain she’s unharmed. But little me? I must be very far away, because I can no longer feel her–or anyone else’s–thoughts.

Strange, no longer being part of a collective, this cruel, hollow silence. Just die, already.

But then I sense it, in the distance yet coming fast. Newly moistened soil. Thickening clouds. A dripping and pinging. Sweet fat droplets. The storm hits me in a soothing rhythm and soaks into my shrunken husk. The wet wind, long absent, bathes me in waves and restores what was taken until I swell again, plump and fertile, until I can reach into the earth to anchor myself and run feelers, until I can foresee becoming the image of my mother with glorious green hair, sprouting a collective of my own, and the voices return.

*****
[Dynastic note: Joyce Fetteroll, over at the Dragon Writing Prompts blog, see the link to the left, challenged everyone to write a rainy scene without ever saying the word rain. In my defense--haha--I limited myself to 15-20 minutes writing time with only the most necessary revision, as it was a writing PROMPT. So please forgive my profusion of adjectives. I'm sure you never thought the life of an acorn could be so frickin' melodramatic. I don't even like acorns, particularly. Heh.

Writing prompts take time away from what you usually write, but the benefits in the long run can be huge. So make a little time for them. It can't hurt.]

For all you obsessives out there…

(originally posted 9/2/2007, Writingscape V1.0)

“One must also accept that one has ‘uncreative’ moments. The more one can honestly accept that, the quicker these moments will pass. One must have the courage to call a halt, to let oneself feel empty and discouraged.” — Etty Hillesum

Accepting uncreative days as part of the creative cycle is crucial to your serenity. And your sanity. Got it? Good.

But on the other side of that token…

Recognize the difference between recharging one’s batteries and just being lazy, or distracted, or dragging one’s butt. I have taken a break for the past week and a half from combating my Book 1 synopsis, because the stress had begun to affect me in rather unattractive ways. That rest was helpful, and good for me. The juices began flowing again while I did anything but write. But the past few days… I’ve simply been dodging getting back in gear, with ANYTHING that would distract me, of which the largest villain has been—no, not the Toob—the Internet. So today, guess what happened? Divine intervention. My DSL cut out and left me high and dry, for no apparent reason, and the telephone as well, and the phone company will only be able to come out and investigate/hopefully fix stuff between now and Tuesday.

I had no choice but to get hoofing again on my synosis exercises and chapter-by-chapter preparation. Got a hell of a lot done, too. And wouldn’t you know it—I try to get online after six hours work and poof, here I am. Posting. Heh.

The cosmos has one hell of a sense of humor, if you ask me.

Peace. Be Still.

And a prosperous New Year to you all.

Just the facts, ma’am. (Help for writers #6.)

If you’re serious about your writing, take a gander at some great advice from  Kathleen Peacock on how ignorance is not bliss.  The Tortoise and the Hare—yes, that be us.

Person Kathleen Peacock

Right click for SmartMenu shortcuts

It’s not about you. Honest.

(originally posted July 15, 2007, Writingscape V1.0)

I was perusing the Flogging the Quill blog (the creation of novelist / freelance editor Ray Rhamey), and came across a post from last June by Rhamey that had me shouting hallelujah, because it was spot-on when it came to my own experiences with that infamous little element called Point of View. You see, I firmly believe that many times the difference between an okay scene and a fantastic scene is if that scene is in the character’s POV, as it should be, rather than the writer’s.

Writers tell stories. Characters have experiences. Which one do YOU think excites a person reading black type on a white page more? Being told a story? Or having an experience, as if they’re really there, with senses engaged? Character viewpoint is what makes fiction live.

Agent Russell Galen calls it “astral projection.” Rhamey calls it connecting to the life of a character using descriptions (their personal point of view in the scene). Nalo Hopkinson warns against doing voice-over, not getting in your character’s head, and “breaking the fourth wall”—the WRITER talking to the reader. Be mindful of what your CHARACTER will or will not see in a setting rather than you the writer. An older, jaded mailroom veteran will notice different things in that room than his much younger new recruit. A female predator will see, hear, and feel things very differently in that alley than her male victim during the very same scene. A kid from a poverty-stricken neighborhood, while pedaling his bike down an upper-class street, will definitely note the richness of a house but probably not delight in the sidewalk tiles being a certain designer’s, imported from Italy.

Remember, it’s not about you. Readers can always tell when you think it is.

Say what?

“It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness.”–Leo Tolstoy

“Writing is not a genteel profession. It’s quite nasty and tough and kind of dirty.”–Rosemary Mahoney

“Writing is the flip side of sex–it’s good only when it’s over.”–Hunter S. Thompson

“If the doctor told me I had six minutes to live, I’d type a little faster.”–Isaac Asimov

Sexuality in ancient Egypt. (Research can be fun.)

(originally posted June 5, 2007, on Writingscape V1.0)

Erotica. The Nile River. What do these two things have in common? They both flowed freely through all levels of ancient Egyptian society for centuries. Throughout dynastic eras, sexuality in Egypt was open and untainted by guilt.

Egypt was a civilization of vast diversity and sexual behaviors: hetero- and homosexuality, bisexuality, incest marriages—to secure bloodlines rather than for debauchery, exhibitionism, legal prostitution—at well-established pleasure houses or under the guidance of temples, adultery, bestiality, and necrophilia, among others. Nobility accepted or condemned sexual behaviors depending on the time period and the ruling class. Same with common folk, only there was a more strict regime in marriage— adultery carried severe punishments like divorce, having one’s nose cut off, or one’s body thrown to hungry dogs. What was acceptable among slaves and concubines was dependent upon their owners. (Eh… I’m still stuck on the necrophilia.)

Even the gods themselves copulated vigorously. *One creation story is that the god Chaos pleasured himself one day, and from said spillage, he created the other gods. *Osiris was hacked into pieces by his angry brother Seth, who threw Osiris’ penis into the Nile as food for the fishes (he did a Bobbett??), which is why the river is so fertile. Wife Isis pieced Osiris back together, creating the first mummy, but couldn’t find said phallus, so she created a new one of clay, wood, and gold. Shortly thereafter her dead husband impregnated her with their son Horus. (Wow. She could have bottled and sold that technique and made a hell of a profit.) In celebration of this event, women walked through the streets singing and carrying puppets that had extremely large genitals. *Hathor, the goddess of love and music, in one story exposed her genitals to her father, the sun god, who smiled. (How about having her strait-jacketed on the spot, Pops?)

Love poems and erotic texts are numerous. The ancient Egyptian man wasn’t afraid to demonstrate his love, and spoke through tales of gods, poetry, dreams and wisdom books. (So only modern men are hopelessly challenged? Cool.)  Lotus blossoms and mandrakes were strong symbols of love. Large families were desired, partly due to a high infant mortality rate, but mainly to show fertility.

Egyptian men had false penises attached to their mummies and Egyptian women had artificial nipples attached to theirs, because there was just as much sex in the Afterlife. (Praise Ra!)

Death by tray.

I had to swipe this YouTube video from David Anthony Durham.  Just HAD to.  Cafeterias everywhere may never be the same again.

I am Vader.  Darth Vader.  Looooord Vader.  I can kill you with a single thought.

Well, you’ll still need a tray.

Eddie Izzard: Death Star Canteen

Your favorite book of all time is…? (OR Let us all grok together.)

(originally posted 5/8/2007, Writingscape V1.0)

What twisted your gut into emotional knots, or had you laughing and curled into a fetal position, had you reading so fast to get to the end that your head hurt, had you reading s-l-o-w-l-y to savor it as long as you could, or made you stand up and salute like a continental soldier? What made such an impression that you’ve never been able to forget it?

Robert Heinlein’s STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND did it for me. The imagery, the inventiveness, the world, the characters, the pacing, hell, the story and an ending that hit me right between the eyes. A completely different take on Martians was the icing; my imagination had a Field Day the likes of which it hasn’t had since. I so wanted to be a Martian nymph (maybe because they were so… bouncy and energetic?). I wanted to smack Jubal upside the head and hug him in the same instant. Continuously. I wanted to be Jill. I wanted to grok Mike, and continue grokking in the way of the Ancient Ones. Ahhhh.

What book did it for you?  (Honorable mentions welcome.)

Say What?

Listen. The best conversations you’ll ever have are the ones where you talk the least.
–JA Konrath

(Why is this such a tough one for some people? Sheesh.)

Just the facts, ma’am. (Help for writers #5.)

A LiveJournal friend hooked me up with this article by author Val Kovalin, on clichés to avoid—what beginning writers do in fantasy fiction.

Excellent stuff.

Book Review.

SYNERGY by M.D. Benoit
Zumaya Otherwords, Austin TX, 2007
Science Fiction Mystery/Alternate Reality
ISBN 13—978-1-934135-10-5
ISBN 10—1-934135-10-0

I fully expected to like this book from a writer’s point of view. After all, I’d read some of M.D.’s Jack Meter Case Files series and already knew she had a way with characters and words. I did not expect to like this book much as a reader, as genetics and gobs of technology always push me too close to the harder side of Sci-Fi for my comfort. (If your characters and story aren’t deep and alive, don’t expect your world alone to keep me interested. I hate books that are simply showcases for how clever the writer is. It’s just the way I am.) So, imagine my utter surprise when, even before I’d finished Synergy’s first chapter, I had to close the book for a moment, lay my head down, and weep because I was so hooked.

Synergy is a satisfying balance of its characters’ plights and the detailed technology of Ottawa (Ontario, Canada) in the year 2096. A tremendous amount of research and thought were put into the topography, the different communities of people, the cityscape, and myriad of genetic and technical terms (which were exotic enough to entice you, yet ingenious enough to figure out). Writers don’t have to know everything so long as they make you think they do; however, I’m convinced M.D. does know a LOT about her subject.

Synergy’s characters hold the monopoly on “M” words. They are a mysterious, memorable, multi-faceted bunch. Their layers opened one by one like petals, but only when M.D., with her admirable timing, was ready to reveal them. None of that everything on character or setting should be stated right up front ridiculousness.

Torver Lockwood—with his amazing and well-written ability—was an enigma from the start; he intrigued me and worried me at the same time, until I could figure what side of the fence to put him on. Would he manage to unravel the mystery of being able to see into people’s pasts, deal with his moral faults, find a desperately-needed cure for Zelimir and keep it out of the wrong hands? Demetria Greyson’s strength and uniqueness made me want to follow her around 24/7 and never lose sight of her. Would she ever come to terms with her terrible disfigurement, understand her visions, willingly let Torver “in” long enough to save their lives and Zelimir’s? I was heavily invested in Laslo Radic, Zelimir’s father, from his very first page. Would he continue dodging the gene-splice police, or lose his freedom and a chunk of his heart forever? These people were imperfect, completely driven by personal agendas. And they were breaking the law, thank God, because a sick child was sinking fast in a very nasty way.

Memorable antagonists are harder and harder to come by. And then, there’s Stringer. He reminded Gerry of a porcupine fish he’d seen once at an Asian aquarium—bloated, prickly, and poisonous. And that was just the beginning. I was chilled—and delighted. In fact, my only disappointment was that our villain’s comeuppance didn’t seem on the level with the heinous things he’d done. (Hey, I’m a drama queen. You might think differently.)

A few posts ago, I asked if anyone knew what the word synergy meant. In this instance, it means a great read that dives right into the plot instead of making you sit through a Gettysburg Address of setup. It means concise, engaging prose. Realistic dialogue. Marvelous characters (another “M” word!). Truly unique description. She’d always thought of his expression as a study in punctuation—a thin mouth bracketed by two long dimples, like a dash between parentheses; or a straight, thin nose like a slash between the two periods that were his small black eyes. Exquisite weaving in of back story and things from my/your/our world. The last sentence of the book got a huge grin out of me. I had no trouble believing it.

When M.D. Benoit looks out over Ottawa, her city, I envy what she is able to see.

Water usage in the ancient world.

(originally posted on Writingscape V1.0, April 30, 2007)

Bath houses weren’t the only benefits back then. These notes make world-building a hell of a lot easier, don’t they? I knew you’d agree.

1. Automated factories, driven by hydraulics. Automated flour mills provided bread daily to Rome’s civilian populace.

2. Mining for gold, by eroding a whole hillside away with the power of aqueducts.

3. Water wheels, cogs, and gears, to lift water up from wells. They moved water uphill from sources in the mountains with various versions of Archimedes’ screw and aqueducts made of 2- to 6-ton stone blocks. Water flowed from the aqueducts into channels, then into water wheels, then into buildings and culverts.

4. Wet saws, used to help cut the stone blocks for buildings.

5. Siphons (which made water RUN uphill using gravity and pressure). Sweet.

6. Plumbing networks (timber frame piping systems). They cut alder trees into logs 4 to 6 feet long then hollowed them out, tapered the ends, mounted them onto oak blocks , then buried them in trenches. Direct rainwater was collected as well, in 60,000 gallon tanks. Thus, running water indoors and flushing toilets were common. (Personal sea sponges were stored beside those toilets for sanitary cleaning. Hopefully everyone kept up with their own sponge and didn’t end up sharing… but you never know).

GOOD advice. Take it with Alka Seltzer.

“I think too often writers pressure themselves to be perfect at the beginning, when flow and creativity and playing are what’s important. No one will read the first draft. No one will read the working synopsis. At the beginning, it’s time to have fun with the ideas while organizing. Work on perfecting should come at the end, when it’s time to capture someone’s attention.”

–Joyce Fetteroll, the Dragon Writing Prompts blog (link’s to the left.)

It’s back! I saw it on the telly.

The Chiller Channel’s Dare 2 Direct Short Film Contest, for 2008, so all you filmmakers, listen up.

Create an original three to six minute short film. Submissions are being accepted now, and have been since June 2. Check out the prizes.

Best Make-up or Costume, $5000.

Creepiest Character, $5000.

Best Picture, $5000.

Go to dare2direct.com to register and get more details. THREE zeros, eh? Ka-ching. Sounds like a winner to me. Good luck!

√ Edited to Add: I just headed over to the site myself, and the submissions period has closed. Winners will be announced around September 2nd. Ah, well. Next year.

Shall we always contradict ourselves?

1. Look before you leap. » He who hesitates is lost.

2. If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. » Don’t beat your head against a brick wall.

3. Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today. » Don’t cross the bridge until you come to it.

4. Two heads are better than one. » Paddle your own canoe.

5. More haste, less speed. » Time waits for no man.

6. You’re never too old to learn. » You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.

7. A word to the wise is sufficient. » Talk is cheap.

8. It’s better to be safe than sorry. » Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

9. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. » Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.

10. Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. » Nice guys finish last.

11. Hitch your wagon to a star. » Don’t bite off more than you can chew.

12. Many hands make light work. » Too many cooks spoil the broth.

13. Don’t judge a book by its cover. » Clothes make the man.

14. The squeaking wheel gets the grease. » Silence is golden.

15. Birds of a feather flock together. » Opposites attract.

16. The pen is mightier than the sword. » Actions speak louder than words.

17. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. » Out of sight, out of mind.

I imagine the answer is YES.

Say What? (Critiques and beta-reading.)

“Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great.” — Mark Twain

“If after being in someone’s presence, you feel like you’ve lost a quart of plasma, avoid that presence.” — William S. Burroughs

And while you’re feeling sorry for yourself, as all we writers definitely do at one time or another, during the rough times and hard critique (it’s quite normal, really), don’t forget this important wisdom:

“If you are not good at taking criticism, then perhaps you really don’t want to know what people think—which is fine. Don’t waste people’s time if you don’t want anything less than a rave.” — Christopher Meeks, author, playwright, & professor

Three things we must learn. And I really like that last one.

Just the facts, ma’am. (Help for writers #4.)

Bram Stoker-nominated author Fran Friel is a fiction contributor and weekly columnist for The Horror Library Blog-O-Rama. She also has a pretty cool Lair, and is prolific beyond all reason with her wicked, wicked self.

Her latest LJ post is just FULL of goodies for writers at any particular part of their journey.  So.  Go on over for A Little Hair Pulling Help and Banner Beggin’.

Then go forth and conquer.

Don’t join a FICTION focus group UNLESS…

(originally posted 3/30/2007, Writingscape V1.0)

…unless you can comfortably do what is required, which is critique each piece according to the market it should appeal to rather than your personal preferences. (This includes cross-genre works, which will have several markets attached.) Fiction covers a lot of ground—mystery, sci-fi, romance, fantasy, thriller/suspense, young adult, children’s, erotica, et cetera, so on and so forth—so if you’re too biased against any of them to be objective, if some genres under the huge fiction umbrella straight-out turn you off, there’s nothing wrong with that, but you’ll be better off seeking out a more specific group.

Fiction critique members have the benefit of experiencing more of a variety of dishes on their plates than members of genre-specific groups. This is something I really enjoy even though I don’t seek books in any but one of my crit-mates’ genres, even though some of their genres I don’t particularly like. What you sign up for is constructively helping each mate make his/her baby appeal to its targeted reader(s). What you don’t care for is, frankly, irrelevant. That said, anything that truly offends you isn’t something you have to critique. Just opt out. If your crit-mates are decent people, they won’t hold it against you.

*Extra note to romance writers and folk who use romantic elements in other genres: You’re screwed. The bricks of the Romance Wall are stacked to the ceiling in some fiction groups (which is apparently acceptable), and thee will have thy head mercilessly driven into them over and over again. So save yourself the effort and simply start your search for the best fairly-run, non-clique romance group you can find. Because you don’t have to take that crap.

(Hence the icon above. Yep.)

Don’t… want… to. Must… fight… it.

(originally posted 3/21/2007, Writingscape V1.0)

It became crystalline clear today that another major character in WIP Book 2 is going to die.

It must be done, and in a manner befitting the way s/he has grown and thrived over the course of the full plot. The writer in me is fully on board, because the character will truly have finished the path s/he was meant to take, it will cement the realism of the Big Picture, and I don’t feel the reader will expect it at all (score!) But the creator/nurturer in me… is ridiculously depressed. S/he is one of my favorite protagonists, and we’ve ridden this long road together like a couple of pros. I don’t want him/her to go. I don’t want see the deep hole of grief the other characters are going to fall into when it happens. But it’s not about them, and it’s not about me. The STORY knows what it needs to float above the pages and be the best it can be. And I must listen.

(Previous angst over a Book 1 character.  Argh.)

Oh, I’ll fight it for many more chapters, because I can. I do have *that* power. But I know it’s coming, nonetheless. And it hurts my feelings.