Saturday, October 13, 2012
New Story of the Month
The October short story of the month is a little tale of horror titled Chitters. It's about an old man facing a beast in the darkness. I wrote this story ten years ago and recently pulled it out of my writing trunk. It was one of my favorite stories then, and is still one of my favorites now. Hope everyone enjoys it!
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
And you wonder why we don't like you...
So I was going through the oh-so-fun task of sorting the mail the other day and saw a letter from our Home Owners Association. Normally I toss these aside because I want to save reading them for those special days when I have absolutely nothing better to do than waste my time with nonsensical things, but I was curious as to why they were sending me a letter since our yard is up to code and I had paid them our fees several months in advance.
What do you know, they had sent me a notice. But not just any old notice they like to give you about bringing in your trash at 5:07 pm on Wednesday because it's supposed to be brought in by 5:00 pm (and we all know if we bring in our trash a few minutes after 5 because we actually have something to do with our lives, like work, that drug dealers and thieves will be swarming so thick in the streets they'll block out the sunlight and children will become drunkards that roam the in the night breaking windows and spraying graffiti on the walls. That few minute time lag could really bring down the neighborhood within a matter of seconds, you know). No, it wasn't one of those very important letters, it was a delinquency notice.
Yes, we're delinquents.
Our account was delinquent by such an outrageous amount of money they had to contact us immediately to let us know that if we didn't pay them the huge debt we owe it could lead to legal repercussions.
It was for six dollars. Yeah. $6.00.
I don't even have anything to say about that, but at this point I don't think I need to.
Don't get me wrong, I think HOAs can be a great thing. I really think they do help keep a neighborhood looking clean and nice, and some of the park and playground areas in our neighborhood are just fantastic, all thanks to the HOA (not our HOA though, we have a dead patch of grass which serves as our park and it's usually chocked with weeds, though they have made minor improvements over the last month). So I believe they are a really valuable thing that more communities should have because when run properly, they really do make a difference in creating a better neighborhood.
But, they also get a little, well...ridiculous sometimes...
Six dollars...psh!!
What do you know, they had sent me a notice. But not just any old notice they like to give you about bringing in your trash at 5:07 pm on Wednesday because it's supposed to be brought in by 5:00 pm (and we all know if we bring in our trash a few minutes after 5 because we actually have something to do with our lives, like work, that drug dealers and thieves will be swarming so thick in the streets they'll block out the sunlight and children will become drunkards that roam the in the night breaking windows and spraying graffiti on the walls. That few minute time lag could really bring down the neighborhood within a matter of seconds, you know). No, it wasn't one of those very important letters, it was a delinquency notice.
Yes, we're delinquents.
Our account was delinquent by such an outrageous amount of money they had to contact us immediately to let us know that if we didn't pay them the huge debt we owe it could lead to legal repercussions.
It was for six dollars. Yeah. $6.00.
I don't even have anything to say about that, but at this point I don't think I need to.
Don't get me wrong, I think HOAs can be a great thing. I really think they do help keep a neighborhood looking clean and nice, and some of the park and playground areas in our neighborhood are just fantastic, all thanks to the HOA (not our HOA though, we have a dead patch of grass which serves as our park and it's usually chocked with weeds, though they have made minor improvements over the last month). So I believe they are a really valuable thing that more communities should have because when run properly, they really do make a difference in creating a better neighborhood.
But, they also get a little, well...ridiculous sometimes...
Six dollars...psh!!
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Thank you!!
Huge, huge thank you to everyone who participated in the free giveaway of my debut novel G-157!! The giveaway was a tremendous success that far surpassed what I had hoped for.
I cannot thank everyone enough who took a chance and got a copy. I really hope everyone enjoys the novel, and again cannot say thank you enough to the first people to support my crazy dream. Thank you all!!
I'm hard at work on my next novel and can't wait to share it with everyone. I'll be posting a sneak peek at the first few chapters in the next week or two, so stay tuned for another exciting adventure. Happy reading everyone!!
I cannot thank everyone enough who took a chance and got a copy. I really hope everyone enjoys the novel, and again cannot say thank you enough to the first people to support my crazy dream. Thank you all!!
I'm hard at work on my next novel and can't wait to share it with everyone. I'll be posting a sneak peek at the first few chapters in the next week or two, so stay tuned for another exciting adventure. Happy reading everyone!!
Book Review: The Red Church
This book is about a small southern town with a "preacher" named Archer McFall leading a religious cult. The majority of the book has your typical Christian horror elements in it: a woman seduced by the dark side, a televangelist as the evil leader, a haunted cop, a stereotypical stone heart female cop, and the one man whose faith in the Lord doesn't falter. A lot of the plot was pretty stereotypical too, but even with all the "been there, read that," happening, I still enjoyed the story and was intrigued to see what happened next.
Aside from being a captivating story-teller, I particularly love the way Nicholson describes things. As a fellow writer, I have to say I'm very jealous of the way he can describe primal emotions in a new way, and for that I have to give him major kudos.
What really made me a fan was the ending of the novel. (Spoiler alert!!) The entire novel was all about the Christian battle between God and the Devil, Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil. And then we get to the last couple pages where we see a major twist. What was the evil leader of the cult actually turned out to be a creature of the earth that gave no such recognition to God or the Devil because it didn't entertain the idea of "anything greater than itself." This creature merely used religion to its advantage to get what it wanted. I really, really loved that this was the way it ended instead of with some intervention from Jesus or having the demonic preacher win out. It really threw me for a loop and got me thinking.
The Red Church is a good read for anyone looking for a classic horror tale with a twist ending written by a talented author with a gift of describing the world around us. I give this book four stars, and am eager to read more of Nicholson's work.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Announcing "Story of the Month"
As a writer I naturally have a trunk full of short stories that I've written over the years. Most are horror stories, some are sci-fi, and a few are literary fiction. Rather than have them sitting there collecting dust, I've decided to add a new feature called Story of the Month. Every month, I'm going to pull an old story out of my writing trunk and post it here for everyone to enjoy.
Some of these stories I've queried to a few magazines, but let's face it, it sucks waiting to hear back from fiction magazines. True, the submission process is a hundred times better than it was when I was in high school, but the waiting still drives me crazy. Back in the day, I'd have to print out two copies of the story along with my query letter, stuff everything into a big manila envelope, and wave farewell to it as I sent if off in the mail. From there I usually had to wait between three and six months only to receive a coffee stained envelope with my query letter inside that had a quick "No" scribbled in the corner. Well thank you very much for making me wait forever just to get a scribble of a response. Awesome. But I get it, that's the way the publishing world works. No one said I had to enjoy that part though. And I have to admit, when I did receive my few "Yes, we want to publish your story," responses, you can bet I ran around the house screaming my head off and waving my acceptance letter in the air.
Nowadays, the submission process has gotten faster, and so have the response times thank to this lovely thing called the internet. But even so, it takes a lot of time researching magazines to find the right fit for your story and trying to craft the perfect query letter for your mini masterpiece. However, when I was going on my short story spree a few months ago, the process was easier than it was even a year ago, so I still try to submit on a pretty regular basis, though my shorty submissions were put on hold for a couple months while I was finishing G-157.
With all that being said, I hope you enjoy some of my "classic" tales of horror that have been salvaged from the depths of the black writing trunk. My first story is called "Fritz," and I must say it's one of my all time favorites. I pulled out a binder of a dozen or so stories I wrote years ago and rediscovered this little tale about a man who tells his pet rat the story of how he "unlocked" the fourth dimension. It was one of my all time favorites then, and it was one of my favorites when I pulled it out a few months ago. Look for it under the Story of the Month tab.
Happy reading everyone!!
Some of these stories I've queried to a few magazines, but let's face it, it sucks waiting to hear back from fiction magazines. True, the submission process is a hundred times better than it was when I was in high school, but the waiting still drives me crazy. Back in the day, I'd have to print out two copies of the story along with my query letter, stuff everything into a big manila envelope, and wave farewell to it as I sent if off in the mail. From there I usually had to wait between three and six months only to receive a coffee stained envelope with my query letter inside that had a quick "No" scribbled in the corner. Well thank you very much for making me wait forever just to get a scribble of a response. Awesome. But I get it, that's the way the publishing world works. No one said I had to enjoy that part though. And I have to admit, when I did receive my few "Yes, we want to publish your story," responses, you can bet I ran around the house screaming my head off and waving my acceptance letter in the air.
Nowadays, the submission process has gotten faster, and so have the response times thank to this lovely thing called the internet. But even so, it takes a lot of time researching magazines to find the right fit for your story and trying to craft the perfect query letter for your mini masterpiece. However, when I was going on my short story spree a few months ago, the process was easier than it was even a year ago, so I still try to submit on a pretty regular basis, though my shorty submissions were put on hold for a couple months while I was finishing G-157.
With all that being said, I hope you enjoy some of my "classic" tales of horror that have been salvaged from the depths of the black writing trunk. My first story is called "Fritz," and I must say it's one of my all time favorites. I pulled out a binder of a dozen or so stories I wrote years ago and rediscovered this little tale about a man who tells his pet rat the story of how he "unlocked" the fourth dimension. It was one of my all time favorites then, and it was one of my favorites when I pulled it out a few months ago. Look for it under the Story of the Month tab.
Happy reading everyone!!
Friday, August 31, 2012
I have a dream
Actually, I had a dream. I had a dream last night that I gave away eleven promotional copies of my novel G-157. As of now, I have given away more than ten times that many and all I can say is, I am completely blown away.
I never in a million years thought that many people would get my book all in one day. NEVER. So I wanted to shout out a huge thank you to everyone who took a chance and got my book. THANK YOU!! A writer is nothing more than a scribbling lunatic without readers, and I am so grateful for all the readers who took the time to consider my novel and add it to their reading lists. Thank you all.
For those of you who took the risk of reading my book, I would love to hear your thoughts on it. If you enjoyed the book let me know! You can write a review on amazon, leave a comment on my blog, or shoot me an email at kathleen.malloy@hotmail.com. Heck, even if you didn't like it I still want to hear your thoughts. After all, it is through criticism that writers become better at their craft.
Thank you all again, and I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts and opinions. Happy Labor Day weekend everyone!
I never in a million years thought that many people would get my book all in one day. NEVER. So I wanted to shout out a huge thank you to everyone who took a chance and got my book. THANK YOU!! A writer is nothing more than a scribbling lunatic without readers, and I am so grateful for all the readers who took the time to consider my novel and add it to their reading lists. Thank you all.
For those of you who took the risk of reading my book, I would love to hear your thoughts on it. If you enjoyed the book let me know! You can write a review on amazon, leave a comment on my blog, or shoot me an email at kathleen.malloy@hotmail.com. Heck, even if you didn't like it I still want to hear your thoughts. After all, it is through criticism that writers become better at their craft.
Thank you all again, and I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts and opinions. Happy Labor Day weekend everyone!
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Promotional Give Away!
In celebration of releasing my latest novel, I'm going to do a five day book give away. That's right, for five whole days the Kindle version of my novel G-157 will be absolutely free! Check it out while this deal lasts because the party ends after Labor Day weekend.
If you're planning on going out of town to celebrate the long weekend, you'll need something to keep you entertained during your travels. What better way to spend a car ride or a flight than by getting lost in an amazing story? Or if you're planning on celebrating your extra day off work by staying home and being lazy, there's nothing better than spending the day on the couch getting lost in a good book. And since it's free for this limited time only that makes it even sweeter.
The Labor Day weekend giveaway will start on Thursday August 30th and ends at midnight Monday Spetember 3rd. Get your free copy while this deal lasts!!
If you're planning on going out of town to celebrate the long weekend, you'll need something to keep you entertained during your travels. What better way to spend a car ride or a flight than by getting lost in an amazing story? Or if you're planning on celebrating your extra day off work by staying home and being lazy, there's nothing better than spending the day on the couch getting lost in a good book. And since it's free for this limited time only that makes it even sweeter.
The Labor Day weekend giveaway will start on Thursday August 30th and ends at midnight Monday Spetember 3rd. Get your free copy while this deal lasts!!
John's Town knows no greed, violence, or poverty. It is a Utopian world in which
all live peace and happiness; the perfect society mankind has aspired to for
generations. Yet Aire has always been suspicious of the smiling faces around
her, certain there are dark secrets behind every set of laughing eyes, behind
every perfectly painted door.
When the military begins to "recruit" people in the masses after an unexplainable virus hits the city, Aire decides to flee for help. There’s just one problem; no one leaves John’s Town alive
Beware the blue lion...
When the military begins to "recruit" people in the masses after an unexplainable virus hits the city, Aire decides to flee for help. There’s just one problem; no one leaves John’s Town alive
Beware the blue lion...
Don't Drink With Monkeys
I heard on the radio the other day that a lab tech at Georgia University Health Sciences was arrested. Not too interesting, right? Wrong. He has one of the best arrest stories I've ever heard!
Apparantly, the guy was found passed out drunk and naked on the campus....in a room with two lab monkeys running around! Getting black out drunk with a bunch of monkeys? That is an EPIC party story in my book.
True, guy shouldn't have been drinking on the job, but to get wasted with lab animals is one of those moments in life you just can't pass up. I found a few articles about it that all say the same thing. Here's the one from the Huffington Post.
Now while this is an epic story of intoxication and a roaring good time that most people probably couldn't top, let's all remember that it's probably not a good idea to do something like this on the job. Ever.
Moral of the story: If a monkey ever offers you beer, just say no.
Apparantly, the guy was found passed out drunk and naked on the campus....in a room with two lab monkeys running around! Getting black out drunk with a bunch of monkeys? That is an EPIC party story in my book.
True, guy shouldn't have been drinking on the job, but to get wasted with lab animals is one of those moments in life you just can't pass up. I found a few articles about it that all say the same thing. Here's the one from the Huffington Post.
Now while this is an epic story of intoxication and a roaring good time that most people probably couldn't top, let's all remember that it's probably not a good idea to do something like this on the job. Ever.
Moral of the story: If a monkey ever offers you beer, just say no.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
G-157 Now Available!
My first novel G-157 is now available in e format! Check it out at amazon! And for a limited time only it's just 99 cents! That's right, only 99 cents for an amazing novel! But this deal won't last long. The 99 cent deal will be over after Labor Day weekend, so if you're looking for a fantastic story for a steal, now is the time to buy!
I'm so excited to finally have my book released to the public and hope everyone enjoys it! Happy reading.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
It's published!
My new novel G-157 has been uploaded to Amazon! In just a few short hours it will be available in electronic format for purchase, and for a limited time only it will be just 99 cents! That's right, just one buck for an amazing story! But hurry, this deal ends after Labor Day weekend.
The paperback version will soon be available for purchase as well. I'm having some conversion issues with the cover art, but my artist will have that taken care of this weekend. Can't wait to hold the printed version in my hands!
I'll be sure to update everyone when the e version is officially on amazon and when the paperback will be available. I'm so excited to finally be sharing my work with the rest of the world and hope everyone enjoys it. Happy reading!!
The paperback version will soon be available for purchase as well. I'm having some conversion issues with the cover art, but my artist will have that taken care of this weekend. Can't wait to hold the printed version in my hands!
I'll be sure to update everyone when the e version is officially on amazon and when the paperback will be available. I'm so excited to finally be sharing my work with the rest of the world and hope everyone enjoys it. Happy reading!!
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Art Work for G-157
It's here! My rockin new artwork for my first published novel G-157. Right now I'm working on getting the formatting correct for publication. Look for it at Amazon next week!!!
John's Town knows no greed, violence, or poverty. It is a Utopian world in which all live peace and happiness; the perfect society mankind has aspired to for generations. Yet Aire has always been suspicious of the smiling faces around her, certain there are dark secrets behind every set of laughing eyes, behind every perfectly painted door.
When the military begins to "recruit" people in the masses after an unexplainable virus hits the city, Aire decides to flee for help. There’s just one problem--no one leaves John’s Town alive.
Here's the back jacket of the book:
Beware the blue lion...John's Town knows no greed, violence, or poverty. It is a Utopian world in which all live peace and happiness; the perfect society mankind has aspired to for generations. Yet Aire has always been suspicious of the smiling faces around her, certain there are dark secrets behind every set of laughing eyes, behind every perfectly painted door.
When the military begins to "recruit" people in the masses after an unexplainable virus hits the city, Aire decides to flee for help. There’s just one problem--no one leaves John’s Town alive.
They WILL go in there...
I am so paranoid about bugs crawling in my ear when I'm sleeping. Sometimes I am completely irrational about it and will keep myself up half the night thinking that something could have gotten in there. I've never had this happen to me, but I have gone to the doctor on several occasions just to have them check and make sure nothing went in there. I know its just my hair crinkling when I'm moving around and that's why I heard a noise close to my ear, but I'm always still convinced its a bug and will wake up at two in the morning to put peroxide in there just to make sure it kills anything that may or may not have decided to wander inside.
Today I found a news story that confirms my suspicions that bugs WILL crawl in your ear and live in there for the rest of their lives if given the opportunity. I found this story on Yahoo today, and am pretty sure I won't sleep well tonight.
Here's what doctors found in a woman's ear:
Yeah, that is a freaking spider just chillin and posing for the camera.
See? They ARE out to get you...
Today I found a news story that confirms my suspicions that bugs WILL crawl in your ear and live in there for the rest of their lives if given the opportunity. I found this story on Yahoo today, and am pretty sure I won't sleep well tonight.
Here's what doctors found in a woman's ear:
Yeah, that is a freaking spider just chillin and posing for the camera.
See? They ARE out to get you...
Sunday, August 5, 2012
The Spanish Demon
Creepy moment yesterday. I was working on my soon to be released novel G-157 and right in the middle of revisions my pen ran out. I opened my drawer to get another one and as soon as I closed it I hear this man's voice from inside the drawer sputter out something in Spanish that ended with the word casa. What the hell? It's a pen drawer! Why would a Spanish man's voice be coming from my pen drawer?
Now, I don't know very much Spanish so I have no idea what the first part of the sentence was, but I did understand the word casa. So of course in my mind, this mystery voice must obviously belong to some dark entity that wants me to get out of his house. It was three in the afternoon mind you, and of course one cannot get creeped out in the middle of the afternoon.
So instead of writing over the next half an hour I spent my time ripping apart my drawer trying to figure out where the voice could have possibly come from so I could ward off the creepies that were starting to wash over me. I mean, there had to be some kind of reasonable explanation for the origin of the voice. Maybe it was some old tape recorder or weird random gag gift that talks. Whatever it was, it had to be coming from something real and rational, right?
Nothing was found. In all my searching I couldn't find anything that could have possibly spoken to me in a different language. And so the case of the Spanish Demon remains unsolved...
Now, I don't know very much Spanish so I have no idea what the first part of the sentence was, but I did understand the word casa. So of course in my mind, this mystery voice must obviously belong to some dark entity that wants me to get out of his house. It was three in the afternoon mind you, and of course one cannot get creeped out in the middle of the afternoon.
So instead of writing over the next half an hour I spent my time ripping apart my drawer trying to figure out where the voice could have possibly come from so I could ward off the creepies that were starting to wash over me. I mean, there had to be some kind of reasonable explanation for the origin of the voice. Maybe it was some old tape recorder or weird random gag gift that talks. Whatever it was, it had to be coming from something real and rational, right?
Nothing was found. In all my searching I couldn't find anything that could have possibly spoken to me in a different language. And so the case of the Spanish Demon remains unsolved...
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Coming this week!
I've been hard at work over the last couple weeks giving my novel G-157 a make over, and oh my gosh is it gorgeous! It was a pretty good book before, but it was missing that 'I have to keep reading this vibe' in the beginning. Now I've added over fifty pages of the kind of writing I do best; gross, weird, creepy, disturbing, etc. and the book is so much better for it. I'm really excited about the new scenes and overall pacing of the story. Another fifty pages of revisions to go and it will FINALLY BE FINISHED!! I'm so excited I haven't been able to think about anything else (which is not so good when you have a day job that requires your full attention) and have worked my booty off trying to finish my revisions over the last couple weeks.
The book will be totally complete this weekend, and I'll be uploading it by Sunday at the latest. I'm so excited to get the first paperback copy of it I can hardly stand it. Look for it on Amazon next week!!
The book will be totally complete this weekend, and I'll be uploading it by Sunday at the latest. I'm so excited to get the first paperback copy of it I can hardly stand it. Look for it on Amazon next week!!
Saturday, July 21, 2012
It's still not right yet
I've had over a dozen people read G-157 and they all freaking loved it. That's a good sign, but after I read through it again last weekend I realized that even though its a good book, it's still missing something. I've felt it was missing something for the longest time, that the book wasn't quite there yet and still needed something more. I couldn't figure it out for the longest time, but after a week of racking my brain I think I figured a few things out.
First off, the book is too short. It's just under 70k words, which means something is missing.
The characters aren't developed enough. Yes, most of them are supposed to be a little bland and blur into each other because that's a major part of the story. But my main peeps just aren't there. They have no soul.
The beginning is way too slow. I do like slower books to a certain extent, but there isn't enough action going on to keep the reader's attention. I do a hell of a good job at keeping the oddities up and making the reader go, "hmm, that's weird," but there's not enough omph to keep your adrenaline pumping.
There's not enough back story. G-157 is supposed to have a bit of mystery in it, but at times its too much.
I don't think my list of needed revisions is very big. Hell, I thought I'd have two pages of things that needed to change, so four things is pretty darn good. And that's because it is a good book with a great story. So I'm hard at work this weekend cranking out those changes. I've added some freakin awesome, page turning back story scenes, spiced up the characters, and so far have added another 30 pages of material to the whole thing. I'm not sure how many words that is because I hand write everything and sometimes my writing is micro, sometimes its huge and sprawling, but I'm guessing I've added around 5k words to it over the last couple days.
And the great thing is, I'm getting excited about this book again. For the longest time I haven't been totally stoked to be working on it, and I think that's because the damn thing has been through like 8 revisions and I feel like it should be finished already. But it's not, because this book is my problem child. It doesn't mean it's less good than the other novels I've written, it's just more difficult to complete it. Unlike the Sledgehammer Club, which flowed like molten lava out of an exploding valcanoe. I've been slowly working on that one now since it's almost finished, and truth be told it is a freaking badass book that I'm so proud of, which is why it's been coming along so slow. I don't want to leave that world to go into another.
I love that story, love the characters, love being completely wrapped up in that world of evil. One of the main characters is a kid named Goat, and he is the most evil character I've ever written. He's also my absolute freaking favorite. He's so fun to write about, and I love showing his reactions and creepy tendencies. He's also the character that has made me most uncomfortable to write. I know he's not real, but some of the things that come out of his mouth make me so uncomfortable. I know that sounds really weird to non writers, but writers understand how words just seem to come from nowhere and land on the page, words they had no intention of writing. And that's how it is with Goat. Because he rocks. Well, except for the whole evil thing. But he's badass evil, so that makes him awesome, like the Joker in The Dark Knight movie.
Anyway, I'm so glad I had another break through with G-157 and have figured out of what it's missing. I'm sure after I go through this round of revisions and edits, let it sit, and go back to read it again, I'll find something else that's not quite right with it. But that's okay, because with each page the book gets a little closer to being completed. And really I'd rather edit a book 15 times to make sure I feel like its right than to say, well it's been revised 6 times so it must be good enough. Nope. That's how people publish totally crappy books, and I refuse to publish a totally crappy book. Sure some people will think its kind of crappy, but that's okay, because even those people will find a lot of good things about the book that they like. And the rest of my readers? They'll either like the book or love it, because it's a great story on the verge of being greatly written.
First off, the book is too short. It's just under 70k words, which means something is missing.
The characters aren't developed enough. Yes, most of them are supposed to be a little bland and blur into each other because that's a major part of the story. But my main peeps just aren't there. They have no soul.
The beginning is way too slow. I do like slower books to a certain extent, but there isn't enough action going on to keep the reader's attention. I do a hell of a good job at keeping the oddities up and making the reader go, "hmm, that's weird," but there's not enough omph to keep your adrenaline pumping.
There's not enough back story. G-157 is supposed to have a bit of mystery in it, but at times its too much.
I don't think my list of needed revisions is very big. Hell, I thought I'd have two pages of things that needed to change, so four things is pretty darn good. And that's because it is a good book with a great story. So I'm hard at work this weekend cranking out those changes. I've added some freakin awesome, page turning back story scenes, spiced up the characters, and so far have added another 30 pages of material to the whole thing. I'm not sure how many words that is because I hand write everything and sometimes my writing is micro, sometimes its huge and sprawling, but I'm guessing I've added around 5k words to it over the last couple days.
And the great thing is, I'm getting excited about this book again. For the longest time I haven't been totally stoked to be working on it, and I think that's because the damn thing has been through like 8 revisions and I feel like it should be finished already. But it's not, because this book is my problem child. It doesn't mean it's less good than the other novels I've written, it's just more difficult to complete it. Unlike the Sledgehammer Club, which flowed like molten lava out of an exploding valcanoe. I've been slowly working on that one now since it's almost finished, and truth be told it is a freaking badass book that I'm so proud of, which is why it's been coming along so slow. I don't want to leave that world to go into another.
I love that story, love the characters, love being completely wrapped up in that world of evil. One of the main characters is a kid named Goat, and he is the most evil character I've ever written. He's also my absolute freaking favorite. He's so fun to write about, and I love showing his reactions and creepy tendencies. He's also the character that has made me most uncomfortable to write. I know he's not real, but some of the things that come out of his mouth make me so uncomfortable. I know that sounds really weird to non writers, but writers understand how words just seem to come from nowhere and land on the page, words they had no intention of writing. And that's how it is with Goat. Because he rocks. Well, except for the whole evil thing. But he's badass evil, so that makes him awesome, like the Joker in The Dark Knight movie.
Anyway, I'm so glad I had another break through with G-157 and have figured out of what it's missing. I'm sure after I go through this round of revisions and edits, let it sit, and go back to read it again, I'll find something else that's not quite right with it. But that's okay, because with each page the book gets a little closer to being completed. And really I'd rather edit a book 15 times to make sure I feel like its right than to say, well it's been revised 6 times so it must be good enough. Nope. That's how people publish totally crappy books, and I refuse to publish a totally crappy book. Sure some people will think its kind of crappy, but that's okay, because even those people will find a lot of good things about the book that they like. And the rest of my readers? They'll either like the book or love it, because it's a great story on the verge of being greatly written.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Good Dogs
I have these two mongrel dogs that I'm still not quite sure how I ended up with. One is a cocky little whippet mix that was rescued from the pound. The other is a total baby dog that's afraid of his own shadow. He showed up at my cousin's house one day all scratched up and scared of everyone. My cousin couldn't keep him, so I went over to see if maybe this dog and I would be a good match. I took one look at his sad little face and instantly fell in love. I think he did too because he came running over to me and sat right down on my lap. I'm still not sure what kind of dog he is. He's got a fat pit bull looking head with the soft face of a lab, and his hair color and patterns are trying to look like German Shepherd markings but don't quite cut it. And to top it off, he's only 40 pounds, so there has to be something smaller in there. He and my other dog aren't the best dogs I've ever had. They do bad things they know they shouldn't sometimes and on occasion get on my nerves, but they're still good dogs, and last night they really proved that they were exactly what dogs are supposed to be.
Last night I fell asleep on the couch trying desperately to finish reading the last 80 pages or so of Stephen King's IT while my boyfriend was on the other couch watching a movie, but it was a losing battle and I nodded off just after page 1000. I slipped into the normal world of my strange and sometimes utterly boring dreams (don't you hate when you dream that you're at work answering emails or that you're in the grocery store debating which brand of chicken to buy?). My dream started out normal enough as far as dreams go; I rode a roller coaster through a lake, ran away from some terrible demon creatures, and flew through the air in my truck just like it was Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang.
Then I got back to my house, and the terror began.
You see, I fell asleep while reading it at the very end where they're trying to kill the evil monster that takes the shape of whatever scares you. There's a ritual that the kids do to try to kill the thing, and it is strangely similar to stories I hear from people who have dropped acid. It wasn't terrifying like other parts of the book had been, but it was strange and though provoking and kept me on the edge of my seat. And, it seeped into my dream.
I had just gotten into our living room and went to go sit on the couch when my cocky little whippet dogs started growling at me and trying to attack me. In my dream I realized it wasn't my dog at all, but rather the evil things that plagued the town of Derry in Stephen King's novel had taken hold of my dog and was using her against me.
I tried to leap over the couch just as she bolted towards me, but I didn't leap over the couch like I could in real life, I leapt above the couch. Our house has vaulted ceilings anyway, but as in the bent rules of the reality of dreams, our 20 foot vaulted ceilings grew into 50 foot vault ceilings, and my tiny little whippet mix jumped 30 feet in the ceiling and sand her teeth right into my neck and lower jaw. And then we were in the darkness as we spiraled into that strange, tiny huge place that is made of everything and nothing, where we were everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time.
It scared the crap out of me.
I bolted up screaming at the top of my lungs like a harpy. My boyfriend sits up with a stunned expression, looks at me, and screams, which makes me scream again because in my delirious state I have no idea why he would be screaming unless there were something terrible standing behind me waiting to cut my head off or something. Both of my dogs, yep my chicken baby dog too, come rushing in barking and growling with their hair standing up and their fangs bared and stand on either side of the couch ready to rip whatever was hurting their mom to shreds. And then, when I stop screaming and sit there panting and clutching my chest, fighting back tears because I'm so bewildered and trying to make sense of everything, my boyfriend says "what the hell?" AND GOES BACK TO SLEEP!!!!!! My hero (insert eye roll here).
So there I am, clutching my chest all freaked out and trying not to cry while my super awesome boyfriend falls back to sleep like nothing happened, and who do you think is right there by my side? Yep, my dogs. Both of them snuck onto the couch with me and just laid there, not fighting with each other for attention like they always do, but just laying there with me in a quiet, comforting way while I got my bearings and calmed down.
And then I started laughing.
It started as a little giggle when I thought about the whole thing, me screaming, my boyfriend screaming, me screaming again, and then my little giggle turned into full blown laughter the more I thought about it. The whole thing was so much like something from a comedy movie that I burst into uncontrollable laughter and had to go outside to let it out. Of course my dogs followed me and sat there wagging their tails with those goofy little looks on their faces as they stared at me laughing so hard I was crying and clutching my stomach.
When I finally calmed down I went back to the couch to try to fall back asleep. Both of my dogs followed me and settled down on the floor next to me, their ears perked, their eyes alert and watchful. I fell back to sleep almost instantly knowing I had two dogs that were there to protect me, to comfort me, and to laugh with me when the whole thing was over. Last night they were everything dogs should be; guardians and companions who are there for you no matter how frightened and tired they may be. Yes, I've got a couple of good dogs.
Last night I fell asleep on the couch trying desperately to finish reading the last 80 pages or so of Stephen King's IT while my boyfriend was on the other couch watching a movie, but it was a losing battle and I nodded off just after page 1000. I slipped into the normal world of my strange and sometimes utterly boring dreams (don't you hate when you dream that you're at work answering emails or that you're in the grocery store debating which brand of chicken to buy?). My dream started out normal enough as far as dreams go; I rode a roller coaster through a lake, ran away from some terrible demon creatures, and flew through the air in my truck just like it was Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang.
Then I got back to my house, and the terror began.
You see, I fell asleep while reading it at the very end where they're trying to kill the evil monster that takes the shape of whatever scares you. There's a ritual that the kids do to try to kill the thing, and it is strangely similar to stories I hear from people who have dropped acid. It wasn't terrifying like other parts of the book had been, but it was strange and though provoking and kept me on the edge of my seat. And, it seeped into my dream.
I had just gotten into our living room and went to go sit on the couch when my cocky little whippet dogs started growling at me and trying to attack me. In my dream I realized it wasn't my dog at all, but rather the evil things that plagued the town of Derry in Stephen King's novel had taken hold of my dog and was using her against me.
I tried to leap over the couch just as she bolted towards me, but I didn't leap over the couch like I could in real life, I leapt above the couch. Our house has vaulted ceilings anyway, but as in the bent rules of the reality of dreams, our 20 foot vaulted ceilings grew into 50 foot vault ceilings, and my tiny little whippet mix jumped 30 feet in the ceiling and sand her teeth right into my neck and lower jaw. And then we were in the darkness as we spiraled into that strange, tiny huge place that is made of everything and nothing, where we were everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time.
It scared the crap out of me.
I bolted up screaming at the top of my lungs like a harpy. My boyfriend sits up with a stunned expression, looks at me, and screams, which makes me scream again because in my delirious state I have no idea why he would be screaming unless there were something terrible standing behind me waiting to cut my head off or something. Both of my dogs, yep my chicken baby dog too, come rushing in barking and growling with their hair standing up and their fangs bared and stand on either side of the couch ready to rip whatever was hurting their mom to shreds. And then, when I stop screaming and sit there panting and clutching my chest, fighting back tears because I'm so bewildered and trying to make sense of everything, my boyfriend says "what the hell?" AND GOES BACK TO SLEEP!!!!!! My hero (insert eye roll here).
So there I am, clutching my chest all freaked out and trying not to cry while my super awesome boyfriend falls back to sleep like nothing happened, and who do you think is right there by my side? Yep, my dogs. Both of them snuck onto the couch with me and just laid there, not fighting with each other for attention like they always do, but just laying there with me in a quiet, comforting way while I got my bearings and calmed down.
And then I started laughing.
It started as a little giggle when I thought about the whole thing, me screaming, my boyfriend screaming, me screaming again, and then my little giggle turned into full blown laughter the more I thought about it. The whole thing was so much like something from a comedy movie that I burst into uncontrollable laughter and had to go outside to let it out. Of course my dogs followed me and sat there wagging their tails with those goofy little looks on their faces as they stared at me laughing so hard I was crying and clutching my stomach.
When I finally calmed down I went back to the couch to try to fall back asleep. Both of my dogs followed me and settled down on the floor next to me, their ears perked, their eyes alert and watchful. I fell back to sleep almost instantly knowing I had two dogs that were there to protect me, to comfort me, and to laugh with me when the whole thing was over. Last night they were everything dogs should be; guardians and companions who are there for you no matter how frightened and tired they may be. Yes, I've got a couple of good dogs.
Friday, July 13, 2012
If only the Tommyknockers were real...
I started a new job recently. It's not my dream job, but it's a damn good one. The company is awesome, the people are great, and I enjoy what I do. But even with good jobs there are days when you just don't want to be there. The last couple days have been like that.
It's been raining for the last few days, which is really, really weird because it usually only rains in Arizona during August and March, and on occasion in January. But rain in July? That's weird. I think it's a trade off from nature to make up for all those dust storms we had last month.
Anyway, it's been raining for the last few days and every time I look outside at work I just think, "Man, I wish I was at home writing...and sleeping. At the same time." I told this to one of my friends and she laughed and told me, good luck with that. Well guess what friend, it could be true if the Tommyknockers were real.
For anyone who doesn't know, Tommyknockers is a Stephen King novel about aliens who crash into our planet and give the people of this small town super abilities. One woman in the story is a writer who invents a typewriter that will write her novels while she sleeps. Best idea ever!! I want one of those.
If the Tommyknockers were real, I could sleep and write at the same time. I told this to my friend and she said, "true, but I don't think you're allowed to sleep at work."
Damn.
Ruin my dreams why don't you.
It's been raining for the last few days, which is really, really weird because it usually only rains in Arizona during August and March, and on occasion in January. But rain in July? That's weird. I think it's a trade off from nature to make up for all those dust storms we had last month.
Anyway, it's been raining for the last few days and every time I look outside at work I just think, "Man, I wish I was at home writing...and sleeping. At the same time." I told this to one of my friends and she laughed and told me, good luck with that. Well guess what friend, it could be true if the Tommyknockers were real.
For anyone who doesn't know, Tommyknockers is a Stephen King novel about aliens who crash into our planet and give the people of this small town super abilities. One woman in the story is a writer who invents a typewriter that will write her novels while she sleeps. Best idea ever!! I want one of those.
If the Tommyknockers were real, I could sleep and write at the same time. I told this to my friend and she said, "true, but I don't think you're allowed to sleep at work."
Damn.
Ruin my dreams why don't you.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Mr. Bucket
It rained for the first time in months on the 4th of July. I'm not talking about a typical Arizona rain that does nothing more than add overwhelming humidity to 120 degree heat and drizzles just enough to make your windshield muddy. It was a real rain, a steady drizzle with a few downpours in which the Heavens gave us a good two inches. That is a lot of rain for central Arizona.
My better half and I spent much of the day reverting to our childhoods by playing in the rain and eating pizza on the back porch. An adult moment kicked in when we realized that the cover over our old boat we inherited was so overloaded with water it sagged to the seats.
Now this boat is nothing fancy, it's old and practical and in no way flashy, but it's our boat and we want to have it for a long time so we take good care of it. Since the water that had collected from the day's showers was straining the cover, my better half decided we better take care of it. We tried to lift it up and let the water run onto the ground, but it was way too heavy for that. So he says, "I need a bucket." The first thing that came to my mind was "Mr. Bucket is buckets of fun."
Of course he looked at me like he had no idea what I was talking about. Many people may not remember this, but Mr. Bucket was a little kid toy that came out like 15 years ago where the kid has a bunch of plastic balls that they scoop up with a shovel and throw into him, then he spits them out of his mouth. Cute idea right? Right.
After I say that my better half says, "Oh yeah, I remember that now."
"Yeah?" I ask. "Do you remember the little song they used to sing on the commercial?"
Nope, he didn't.
Now when Mr. Bucket came out I was at that age when I was becoming more aware of the adult world, but many innuendos still alluded me. Mr. Bucket's jingle was one of them, and when I did realize what his cute little theme song meant in the dirty adult world it couldn't have been at a better time.
At this time when Mr. Bucket was new and his commercial played fifteen times a day on Saturday morning I was friends with a girl who had two mortal enemies that were always picking on her and trying to beat her up. It was after school one day and my friend and I were on the football field when these two evil girls showed up and tried to start a fight again. They did their usual routine of making fun of her, calling her names, doing whatever they could to provoke us to get into a scuffle with them.
Well my friend had had enough and she told the one girl, "Yeah well at least I'm not a Mr. Bucket like you!"
The three of us stopped and looked at her like, what in the hell are you talking about and I asked her what that meant. She rolled her eyes and said, "You know, like Mr. Bucket's theme song? 'Mr. Bucket, balls pop out of my mouth, Mr. Bucket, buckets of fun!'"
That was really how the jingle went for this children's toy. "Mr. Bucket, balls pop out of my mouth." None of us had EVER caught onto the adult meaning of that until my friend called this girl a Mr. Bucket and we all realized that my friend was callign her slutty. We were all so taken back by the fact that we had never realized this before that all three of us starting laughing our asses off when just seconds before we were ready to get into a fist fight with each other.
Needless to say our fight was diffused for the day. Who can keep fighting with someone after your all just laughed your asses off together? So I thank you, Mr. Bucket, for having such a perverted song at a time in our lives when we were caught in that strange and scary place when we weren't quite girls anymore yet still weren't quite women.
My better half laughed for a good ten minutes about this story, because he never realized how dirty innocent little Mr. Bucket was either until I sang the song again as an adult. And that boys and girls just goes to show how much you've changed through your life without even knowing it.
My better half and I spent much of the day reverting to our childhoods by playing in the rain and eating pizza on the back porch. An adult moment kicked in when we realized that the cover over our old boat we inherited was so overloaded with water it sagged to the seats.
Now this boat is nothing fancy, it's old and practical and in no way flashy, but it's our boat and we want to have it for a long time so we take good care of it. Since the water that had collected from the day's showers was straining the cover, my better half decided we better take care of it. We tried to lift it up and let the water run onto the ground, but it was way too heavy for that. So he says, "I need a bucket." The first thing that came to my mind was "Mr. Bucket is buckets of fun."
Of course he looked at me like he had no idea what I was talking about. Many people may not remember this, but Mr. Bucket was a little kid toy that came out like 15 years ago where the kid has a bunch of plastic balls that they scoop up with a shovel and throw into him, then he spits them out of his mouth. Cute idea right? Right.
After I say that my better half says, "Oh yeah, I remember that now."
"Yeah?" I ask. "Do you remember the little song they used to sing on the commercial?"
Nope, he didn't.
Now when Mr. Bucket came out I was at that age when I was becoming more aware of the adult world, but many innuendos still alluded me. Mr. Bucket's jingle was one of them, and when I did realize what his cute little theme song meant in the dirty adult world it couldn't have been at a better time.
At this time when Mr. Bucket was new and his commercial played fifteen times a day on Saturday morning I was friends with a girl who had two mortal enemies that were always picking on her and trying to beat her up. It was after school one day and my friend and I were on the football field when these two evil girls showed up and tried to start a fight again. They did their usual routine of making fun of her, calling her names, doing whatever they could to provoke us to get into a scuffle with them.
Well my friend had had enough and she told the one girl, "Yeah well at least I'm not a Mr. Bucket like you!"
The three of us stopped and looked at her like, what in the hell are you talking about and I asked her what that meant. She rolled her eyes and said, "You know, like Mr. Bucket's theme song? 'Mr. Bucket, balls pop out of my mouth, Mr. Bucket, buckets of fun!'"
That was really how the jingle went for this children's toy. "Mr. Bucket, balls pop out of my mouth." None of us had EVER caught onto the adult meaning of that until my friend called this girl a Mr. Bucket and we all realized that my friend was callign her slutty. We were all so taken back by the fact that we had never realized this before that all three of us starting laughing our asses off when just seconds before we were ready to get into a fist fight with each other.
Needless to say our fight was diffused for the day. Who can keep fighting with someone after your all just laughed your asses off together? So I thank you, Mr. Bucket, for having such a perverted song at a time in our lives when we were caught in that strange and scary place when we weren't quite girls anymore yet still weren't quite women.
My better half laughed for a good ten minutes about this story, because he never realized how dirty innocent little Mr. Bucket was either until I sang the song again as an adult. And that boys and girls just goes to show how much you've changed through your life without even knowing it.
The Magic of Reading
It's been forever since I posted, and one of the main reasons besides the usual excuses of why you didn't do something (like work, college, family, friends, housework, writing) is because I've been working on reading It by Stephen King. Normally when I read one of Mr. King's novels it takes me a day, maybe two or three if I start it during the week. But not with It. Oh no, not with It. This book is over a thousand pages, and I've loved every word.
Now, some none readers would say, why in God's name would you want to spend hours reading one story? My better half looked at me like I was a little bit more than bonkers when I told him that I think I've spent 20 hours reading this novel and still have a couple hundred pages to go. That is a lot of time to devote to one story, to one thing that, on the surface, doesn't have any value or purpose other than to entertain me. So why spend that much time in solitude doing something that doesn't immediately help build relationships with other people or better your situation in life? Hell, why don't you just spend three hours watching the movie if you want to be entertained? It takes a fraction of the time to hear the story of Pennywise and you can enjoy the fear and fantasy with someone else. Well, I love reading the book simply because there's something magical about reading.
The technology used in cinema today truly amazes me. Phenomenal 3D movies like Avatar boggle my mind with their touch of realism, with how, especially in 3D, it seems the movie really is jumping out of the screen into your world of reality. The Adventures of Tin-Tin really blew me away. So much of the computer animation in that movie looked so real, the ocean, the boat, the plane, everything. It's truly remarkable what we can do with technology today.
Now, I'm a die-hard movie buff and love everything about cinema. I love all types of movies, from the old black and white silent films to the brand new super technological thrillers, bad movies, good movies, horror movies, funny movies, romance movies, everything. Movies freaking rock. But much as I love them, they're still never as good as a great book by a great writer.
When people read my work they say its like watching a movie, that they can see and hear everything that's going on and it feels as though they're not reading at all but simply watching a great story unfold. I'm always flattered when I hear that, because as a writer nine times out of ten I'm going to assume that what I wrote and revised a half a dozen times is still going to suck. But, what I hope to achieve as a writer is to one day be able to make the reader feel like they're in the story, because this is where the magic of reading really comes out.
Stephen King is my favorite writer. I know there's a lot of people out there who don't like his work and think he's terrible, and that's fine. He just warps my imagination in ways few other writers can, and he does it with almost every story. Oh yeah, he's written a book that I really didn't like and it felt like pulling teeth the whole time I was reading it, but does this mean I wrote him off and thought he'd lost his mind? No. To me he's a master at what he does, and the fact that he's only had one baddie in my opinion is really freaking amazing. He's the master of the craft of fiction because he sucks the reader into the story, and that's when the magic of reading kicks in.
It is a particularly good example of the magic in reading. As I drift off and get happily lost in this story for an hour at a time I feel like I'm one of the kids in Derry, Beverly's sister perhaps. I can smell that damp mugginess after it rains, can hear the mosquitoes buzzing in my ears as the Loser kids trek around the woods. I can feel the cold when it snows, I can feel the terror as the psycho kids chase our heroes. And at times, I can feel the evil clown Pennywise right there in the room with me, lurking in the shadows of my mind, waiting to pounce into my world of the real and take the shape of what scares me most. With this book I sometimes have to put it down because it scares me too much, it seems too real to me. When the world of fiction and the world of the real blur together in a way that confuses the mind so much that it's no longer sure of what is real and what is a story is when the magic of reading comes alive.
I saw the movie It when I was a kid and oh yeah, you bet it scared the crap out of me, but it never scared me in the way it does now that I'm an adult reading the book. When I was a kid, sure I was creeped out after I watched the movie and had a nightmare or two, but movies aren't real. Kids are taught from an early age that movies aren't real, and we carry that with us as we morph into our adult selves until we become people who are difficult to scare because we know what we are watching is nothing more than a farce. But when you're reading something scary? That's when things suddenly become very scary again, and very, very real.
I'm not sure why reading is so very different than watching a movie, but I know there are forces at work within the mind that simply aren't there when you're watching a movie; they're only alive within the pages of a book. Perhaps reading makes stories so much more real and terrifying because your mind already has to work a little harder to see this fake world. Your mind has to make an image of a tree in a grassy park with a swing set in it, it has to form features of the characters that are talking, has to put clothes on the characters, has to set the pitches of their voices. Your mind must create the majority of the story when you're reading, and really reality is nothing more than your mind's perception of the world. So therefore when you're reading and your mind is creating the majority of the world, it makes sense that it all seems so real, more real than watching someone else's version of reality on a screen.
For me the magic of reading is that a story no longer becomes a work of fiction, it becomes another world that you're apart of, somewhere you belong. I once watched an author who asked the audience, "how many lives can you live?" That's what reading and writing is, living another life for a few minutes to a few hours. With reading we could live a thousand lives in fifty years if we wanted to. How much more magical can you get than that?
Now, some none readers would say, why in God's name would you want to spend hours reading one story? My better half looked at me like I was a little bit more than bonkers when I told him that I think I've spent 20 hours reading this novel and still have a couple hundred pages to go. That is a lot of time to devote to one story, to one thing that, on the surface, doesn't have any value or purpose other than to entertain me. So why spend that much time in solitude doing something that doesn't immediately help build relationships with other people or better your situation in life? Hell, why don't you just spend three hours watching the movie if you want to be entertained? It takes a fraction of the time to hear the story of Pennywise and you can enjoy the fear and fantasy with someone else. Well, I love reading the book simply because there's something magical about reading.
The technology used in cinema today truly amazes me. Phenomenal 3D movies like Avatar boggle my mind with their touch of realism, with how, especially in 3D, it seems the movie really is jumping out of the screen into your world of reality. The Adventures of Tin-Tin really blew me away. So much of the computer animation in that movie looked so real, the ocean, the boat, the plane, everything. It's truly remarkable what we can do with technology today.
Now, I'm a die-hard movie buff and love everything about cinema. I love all types of movies, from the old black and white silent films to the brand new super technological thrillers, bad movies, good movies, horror movies, funny movies, romance movies, everything. Movies freaking rock. But much as I love them, they're still never as good as a great book by a great writer.
When people read my work they say its like watching a movie, that they can see and hear everything that's going on and it feels as though they're not reading at all but simply watching a great story unfold. I'm always flattered when I hear that, because as a writer nine times out of ten I'm going to assume that what I wrote and revised a half a dozen times is still going to suck. But, what I hope to achieve as a writer is to one day be able to make the reader feel like they're in the story, because this is where the magic of reading really comes out.
Stephen King is my favorite writer. I know there's a lot of people out there who don't like his work and think he's terrible, and that's fine. He just warps my imagination in ways few other writers can, and he does it with almost every story. Oh yeah, he's written a book that I really didn't like and it felt like pulling teeth the whole time I was reading it, but does this mean I wrote him off and thought he'd lost his mind? No. To me he's a master at what he does, and the fact that he's only had one baddie in my opinion is really freaking amazing. He's the master of the craft of fiction because he sucks the reader into the story, and that's when the magic of reading kicks in.
It is a particularly good example of the magic in reading. As I drift off and get happily lost in this story for an hour at a time I feel like I'm one of the kids in Derry, Beverly's sister perhaps. I can smell that damp mugginess after it rains, can hear the mosquitoes buzzing in my ears as the Loser kids trek around the woods. I can feel the cold when it snows, I can feel the terror as the psycho kids chase our heroes. And at times, I can feel the evil clown Pennywise right there in the room with me, lurking in the shadows of my mind, waiting to pounce into my world of the real and take the shape of what scares me most. With this book I sometimes have to put it down because it scares me too much, it seems too real to me. When the world of fiction and the world of the real blur together in a way that confuses the mind so much that it's no longer sure of what is real and what is a story is when the magic of reading comes alive.
I saw the movie It when I was a kid and oh yeah, you bet it scared the crap out of me, but it never scared me in the way it does now that I'm an adult reading the book. When I was a kid, sure I was creeped out after I watched the movie and had a nightmare or two, but movies aren't real. Kids are taught from an early age that movies aren't real, and we carry that with us as we morph into our adult selves until we become people who are difficult to scare because we know what we are watching is nothing more than a farce. But when you're reading something scary? That's when things suddenly become very scary again, and very, very real.
I'm not sure why reading is so very different than watching a movie, but I know there are forces at work within the mind that simply aren't there when you're watching a movie; they're only alive within the pages of a book. Perhaps reading makes stories so much more real and terrifying because your mind already has to work a little harder to see this fake world. Your mind has to make an image of a tree in a grassy park with a swing set in it, it has to form features of the characters that are talking, has to put clothes on the characters, has to set the pitches of their voices. Your mind must create the majority of the story when you're reading, and really reality is nothing more than your mind's perception of the world. So therefore when you're reading and your mind is creating the majority of the world, it makes sense that it all seems so real, more real than watching someone else's version of reality on a screen.
For me the magic of reading is that a story no longer becomes a work of fiction, it becomes another world that you're apart of, somewhere you belong. I once watched an author who asked the audience, "how many lives can you live?" That's what reading and writing is, living another life for a few minutes to a few hours. With reading we could live a thousand lives in fifty years if we wanted to. How much more magical can you get than that?
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
You're just asking for it
We went out to the bar for Father's Day the other night, and I was very put off by the demeanour of the particular establishment we went to.
Now, we don't exactly have a great selection of bars where I live, mostly because there aren't a lot of people there and we're in the middle of nowhere, which is why our favorite bars are the neighbors' garages. But since we had a special occasion to celebrate, we all decided to go to the nicest bar in our neck of the woods.
I've been to this place a couple times before, and it really is a gorgeous bar, but drinks are expensive so we rarely go there. I mean seriously, a bottle of cheap beer is five bucks when I can go to the store and buy an 18 pack of the same beer for fifteen dollars. Silly, but we figured what the heck, we never go out anyway.
Mistake.
We're outside people and so naturally claimed our territory out on the patio. It was almost nine, but the temperature was still in the triple digits outside. Since there was a mister system surrounding the patio, we asked the waitress when she came to take our order if she would be able to turn them on. They are there to cool off the customers after all.
Um, no. They're really not. They're just there to drive you crazy and make you think of how freaking hot it is outside and how much you wish you could be sitting in a refreshing mist.
After I asked about the misters, the waitress looks at us and straight up says, "we don't turn them on at night because there's nothing to dry the water and puddles form."
Wow. Really? It was 106 degrees and there was a nice breeze, not to mention the system was a good fifteen feet above the ground. Plus we had just left another place with misters that were actually closer to the ground and there was no water on the floor because it was hot as crap outside.
So I said to the waitress, "you don't have to turn them on full blast. Even a low setting would be nice."
"No, we don't do that here."
Well okay then. Dumb, but whatever.
A little later on, we realize that this bar has the most amount of rules we'd ever seen in a bar in our lives. Every five feet there was a sign posted telling you what NOT to do. Not only were they signs telling you what you couldn't do, they were DUMB signs telling you what you couldn't do. We just couldn't believe that everywhere we went there were these signs saying, "DO NOT put feet on furniture" and "DO NOT put feet on fire pit" and "DO NOT use fire pit as an ashtray". Well no shit dude, its a propane fire pit, why would I use that as an ashtray? And who do these people think they are, my mother? I don't think I've had someone tell me to not put my feet on the furniture since I was eight. Stupid.
Now obviously I'm the kind of person that hates rules. Yeah most rules are there to keep people safe, and those are cool. But when it comes to dumb rules that don't seem necessary? I can't stand them. So what did we do?
First we had a scheme to start sticking post it notes all over the place with our own DO NOT rules. You know, things like "DO NOT leave water running in bathroom," "DO NOT leave patio door open." Dumb things like that. Instead, we came up with an even better plan to do new things that would irritate the owner, and hopefully cause them to waste more money putting up a dumb sign everyone will hat just so we could say we made our mark. Turned out to be the most fun thing of the night.
All night the waitress was coming over and yelling at us to not have our legs on a chair, or to not sit on the fence, or to not sit on the fire pit (its one of those cool above level stone ones). I'm pretty sure she hated us by the end of the night because every time she came and yelled at us we just said, "hey, there's no sign saying I can't do that," and she'd get pissed and walk away. Mature? No. Necessary? No. Fun? F***ing hilarious!!!!
Normally I don't do things like that, but I seriously believe if you have the audacity to post ridiculous signs of things you'd say to children around a bar, you're just asking for people to be obnoxious. Treat someone like a little kid, and they're likely to act like a little kid. So of course with my little kid mentality, if I have someone constantly telling me what I can't do it's my natural proclivity to try to do everything I can to annoy the crap out of them. After all, they WERE asking for it.
Now, we don't exactly have a great selection of bars where I live, mostly because there aren't a lot of people there and we're in the middle of nowhere, which is why our favorite bars are the neighbors' garages. But since we had a special occasion to celebrate, we all decided to go to the nicest bar in our neck of the woods.
I've been to this place a couple times before, and it really is a gorgeous bar, but drinks are expensive so we rarely go there. I mean seriously, a bottle of cheap beer is five bucks when I can go to the store and buy an 18 pack of the same beer for fifteen dollars. Silly, but we figured what the heck, we never go out anyway.
Mistake.
We're outside people and so naturally claimed our territory out on the patio. It was almost nine, but the temperature was still in the triple digits outside. Since there was a mister system surrounding the patio, we asked the waitress when she came to take our order if she would be able to turn them on. They are there to cool off the customers after all.
Um, no. They're really not. They're just there to drive you crazy and make you think of how freaking hot it is outside and how much you wish you could be sitting in a refreshing mist.
After I asked about the misters, the waitress looks at us and straight up says, "we don't turn them on at night because there's nothing to dry the water and puddles form."
Wow. Really? It was 106 degrees and there was a nice breeze, not to mention the system was a good fifteen feet above the ground. Plus we had just left another place with misters that were actually closer to the ground and there was no water on the floor because it was hot as crap outside.
So I said to the waitress, "you don't have to turn them on full blast. Even a low setting would be nice."
"No, we don't do that here."
Well okay then. Dumb, but whatever.
A little later on, we realize that this bar has the most amount of rules we'd ever seen in a bar in our lives. Every five feet there was a sign posted telling you what NOT to do. Not only were they signs telling you what you couldn't do, they were DUMB signs telling you what you couldn't do. We just couldn't believe that everywhere we went there were these signs saying, "DO NOT put feet on furniture" and "DO NOT put feet on fire pit" and "DO NOT use fire pit as an ashtray". Well no shit dude, its a propane fire pit, why would I use that as an ashtray? And who do these people think they are, my mother? I don't think I've had someone tell me to not put my feet on the furniture since I was eight. Stupid.
Now obviously I'm the kind of person that hates rules. Yeah most rules are there to keep people safe, and those are cool. But when it comes to dumb rules that don't seem necessary? I can't stand them. So what did we do?
First we had a scheme to start sticking post it notes all over the place with our own DO NOT rules. You know, things like "DO NOT leave water running in bathroom," "DO NOT leave patio door open." Dumb things like that. Instead, we came up with an even better plan to do new things that would irritate the owner, and hopefully cause them to waste more money putting up a dumb sign everyone will hat just so we could say we made our mark. Turned out to be the most fun thing of the night.
All night the waitress was coming over and yelling at us to not have our legs on a chair, or to not sit on the fence, or to not sit on the fire pit (its one of those cool above level stone ones). I'm pretty sure she hated us by the end of the night because every time she came and yelled at us we just said, "hey, there's no sign saying I can't do that," and she'd get pissed and walk away. Mature? No. Necessary? No. Fun? F***ing hilarious!!!!
Normally I don't do things like that, but I seriously believe if you have the audacity to post ridiculous signs of things you'd say to children around a bar, you're just asking for people to be obnoxious. Treat someone like a little kid, and they're likely to act like a little kid. So of course with my little kid mentality, if I have someone constantly telling me what I can't do it's my natural proclivity to try to do everything I can to annoy the crap out of them. After all, they WERE asking for it.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
A litte self examination
No, not that kind of self examination you perverts/medical students. I'm talking about examination of personality and character.
This summer I'm taking a communications class to finish up my English degree, and our first two weeks is all about the self. We had to take a personality test, and it was surprisingly accurate. It really reflected my traits, and pointed out some key things that I liked. Also an activity that turned out to be fun was our personal ad. Everyone had to write like a personal dating ad but couldn't put their name, gender, or anything about their appearance on it.The whole thing turned out to be an hour long laugh riot as we all tried to guess who had written the ad.
While writing my own ad, I found it extremely difficult to make myself sound cool about the things I like to do. Let's face it, I'm extremely normal in my likes, so normal its almost boring. I like the usual things. You know, dirt bikes, fishing, dive bars, old movies. Yawn fest.
But then I got to thinking, what about the things I don't like? Are they the normal, boring, usual things most people don't like? Well, I started really thinking about it and shared my list with some new friends I'm still getting to know. Turns out, most people's Don't Like It list is way more amusing and entertaining than their Like It list. Here's mine, feel free to share your own!
1. Ostriches. I'm not quite sure why, but I hate ostriches more than anything else on the planet besides the stereotypical hate it list most people have, like Nazis, child molesters, rapists, animal abusers. If you're an ostrich, Nazi, cho-mo, rapist, or puppy kicker get off my site! Why ostriches have made it to my hate list I don't know. To my knowledge nothing terrible ever happened at the Ostrich Festival when I was a kid, and I've never had one attack me, yet every time I see one I become enraged and want to punch them in the head. Sorry ostriches, but we'll never be friends. Ever....unless maybe an ostrich saves my life one day.
2. That weird gum licking noise dogs make. It sounds disgusting. I don't know why they're doing that because their tongue never leaves their mouth to actually lick anything. And they always seem to do it in the middle of the night. I can be dead asleep and still hear my dog making that noise in the middle of the night even if he's out in the hall way. It's just as annoying as a person who chews with their mouth open.
3. Car testicles. Not sure who came up with the idea to hand a fake sack on their bumper, but it is really, really dumb, I don't get it, and it makes the rest of the world think you're compensating for something. Every time I see one of these I want to grab a pair of bolt cutters, hack the things off, and tape it to their windshield with a bumper sticker that says "You've Been Neutered!" Nope, I've never actually done that because you shouldn't destroy someone else's property no matter how stupid, but I fantasize about it every time.
4. Guys who wear shirts that drape to their knees. I'm pretty sure if your top goes to your knees or further this is called a dress. If a man wants to wear a dress, fine, totally cool with me. I'm talking about these kids who think they're gangster or something and wear clothes about 25 sizes too big for them. It's weird, I don't get it, and every time I see dudes who do this I automatically start calling them Miss. They are wearing dresses after all.
5. Motivational Posters. Really don't get the point of these things. They're degrading when you really think about them. There's a demotivational poster somewhere on the web that perfectly sums up how silly motivational posters are.
This summer I'm taking a communications class to finish up my English degree, and our first two weeks is all about the self. We had to take a personality test, and it was surprisingly accurate. It really reflected my traits, and pointed out some key things that I liked. Also an activity that turned out to be fun was our personal ad. Everyone had to write like a personal dating ad but couldn't put their name, gender, or anything about their appearance on it.The whole thing turned out to be an hour long laugh riot as we all tried to guess who had written the ad.
While writing my own ad, I found it extremely difficult to make myself sound cool about the things I like to do. Let's face it, I'm extremely normal in my likes, so normal its almost boring. I like the usual things. You know, dirt bikes, fishing, dive bars, old movies. Yawn fest.
But then I got to thinking, what about the things I don't like? Are they the normal, boring, usual things most people don't like? Well, I started really thinking about it and shared my list with some new friends I'm still getting to know. Turns out, most people's Don't Like It list is way more amusing and entertaining than their Like It list. Here's mine, feel free to share your own!
1. Ostriches. I'm not quite sure why, but I hate ostriches more than anything else on the planet besides the stereotypical hate it list most people have, like Nazis, child molesters, rapists, animal abusers. If you're an ostrich, Nazi, cho-mo, rapist, or puppy kicker get off my site! Why ostriches have made it to my hate list I don't know. To my knowledge nothing terrible ever happened at the Ostrich Festival when I was a kid, and I've never had one attack me, yet every time I see one I become enraged and want to punch them in the head. Sorry ostriches, but we'll never be friends. Ever....unless maybe an ostrich saves my life one day.
2. That weird gum licking noise dogs make. It sounds disgusting. I don't know why they're doing that because their tongue never leaves their mouth to actually lick anything. And they always seem to do it in the middle of the night. I can be dead asleep and still hear my dog making that noise in the middle of the night even if he's out in the hall way. It's just as annoying as a person who chews with their mouth open.
3. Car testicles. Not sure who came up with the idea to hand a fake sack on their bumper, but it is really, really dumb, I don't get it, and it makes the rest of the world think you're compensating for something. Every time I see one of these I want to grab a pair of bolt cutters, hack the things off, and tape it to their windshield with a bumper sticker that says "You've Been Neutered!" Nope, I've never actually done that because you shouldn't destroy someone else's property no matter how stupid, but I fantasize about it every time.
4. Guys who wear shirts that drape to their knees. I'm pretty sure if your top goes to your knees or further this is called a dress. If a man wants to wear a dress, fine, totally cool with me. I'm talking about these kids who think they're gangster or something and wear clothes about 25 sizes too big for them. It's weird, I don't get it, and every time I see dudes who do this I automatically start calling them Miss. They are wearing dresses after all.
5. Motivational Posters. Really don't get the point of these things. They're degrading when you really think about them. There's a demotivational poster somewhere on the web that perfectly sums up how silly motivational posters are.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Writing Updates
So I really wanted to have G-157 done and ready to upload this weekend, but it looks like that isn't going to happen.
I'm super cheap and refuse to print out more than one copy of the book, which in turn has screwed me over in the final editing process. One of my readers has been holding the book hostage for the last month, and its about time to start planning a reconnaissance to get it back. I have a few other people who still want to read it, and the several others who have read it are looking forward to having an autographed copy (which sounds so weird now that people are really saying that because I'm still a nobody in the literary world). But hopefully I will be able to rescue my book this weekend, and my final two readers will be able to sink their teeth into it and give me feedback.
I have the house to myself for a day this weekend, and intend to finish up The Sledgehammer Club. I've tried to do revisions on it this week, but it's been way to busy and my brain refuses to do anything but shut down and fall asleep every time I pull the manuscript to do anything.
And of course my other novel, Deceptions, is always calling for its finishing touches. But I figure that its waited six years to be polished, it can wait a little longer.
This summer is going to be busy, but I'm trying to get into the habit of working on a project for at least a half hour a day. And now that I don't have a computer anymore, it should be that much easier to not get distracted while writing. But us writers are creative though, aren't we? So I'm sure I'll find other ways to do anything I possibly can other than writing because I always run the pace of a slug when a story is almost finished. But I vow to do my best until my 30 minutes are done each day!
I'm super cheap and refuse to print out more than one copy of the book, which in turn has screwed me over in the final editing process. One of my readers has been holding the book hostage for the last month, and its about time to start planning a reconnaissance to get it back. I have a few other people who still want to read it, and the several others who have read it are looking forward to having an autographed copy (which sounds so weird now that people are really saying that because I'm still a nobody in the literary world). But hopefully I will be able to rescue my book this weekend, and my final two readers will be able to sink their teeth into it and give me feedback.
I have the house to myself for a day this weekend, and intend to finish up The Sledgehammer Club. I've tried to do revisions on it this week, but it's been way to busy and my brain refuses to do anything but shut down and fall asleep every time I pull the manuscript to do anything.
And of course my other novel, Deceptions, is always calling for its finishing touches. But I figure that its waited six years to be polished, it can wait a little longer.
This summer is going to be busy, but I'm trying to get into the habit of working on a project for at least a half hour a day. And now that I don't have a computer anymore, it should be that much easier to not get distracted while writing. But us writers are creative though, aren't we? So I'm sure I'll find other ways to do anything I possibly can other than writing because I always run the pace of a slug when a story is almost finished. But I vow to do my best until my 30 minutes are done each day!
"Rules" on Writing Part Three-The Weather
Another "rule" of writing states that one should never describe the weather in fiction. The weather is there in our lives every day, always constant. It effects mood, and therefore I think it is perfectly fine to talk about the weather in literature.
Weather can actually be an integral part of the plot. The storm in Stephen King's THE MIST very much needed to be included so it could move the story along and set events in motion. Sure he could have said, "there was a bad storm outside." But wasn't it much better to see the details of the storm? To show the family sitting with candles in their home, to feel the fear of the parents as they watched the trees smack against the windows? This particular description of weather was so well written that even though it was 115 degrees without a cloud in the sky while I was reading it, I felt like there actually was a storm brewing outside.
Or how about the tornado in the WIZARD OF OZ? How would Dorothy have gotten to that strange and magical land if it weren't for a twister? How would the reader (or watcher) have felt the fear of the characters if the weather hadn't been described with great emphasis? Again, the weather was needed, and it's so much more fun to go into the details about the weather rather than just to write something simple like "it was windy," or "it was hot."
The weather is integral. Sure, some stories don't need anything about the weather included, because it really has nothing to do with the story. Most need a little description of what it's like outside. Others need a good chunk of emphasis on the happenings within the Coriolis effect. Hell, in some stories the weather actually becomes a character.
However, some literary agents hate the weather so much that they automatically dismiss a book and will read no further than the first sentence of chapter one if the author starts the story with describing the weather. I think agents who practice such subjective thinking are idiots who think they are some type of deity in the literary world but really are just stuck up pricks trying to tell the rest of us what they think good literature should be. You know what all you snobby agents who instantly think a book is crap because it starts with the weather? You're not only jerks, you're morons. I've read plenty of surprisingly great novels that start with boring old weather. Did I scoff at the author for starting the novel by talking about the weather? Obviously not. Of course dear agents, this is all my subjective opinion in an extremely subjective industry.
What I think it all boils down to is this; describe the weather when appropriate, but don't bore the reader with it and don't describe it when you don't need to. Weather is another one of those things in literature that every author must learn to tango with in every story, but I also think that's what writing is all about, learning to dance to the beat with your story.
Weather can actually be an integral part of the plot. The storm in Stephen King's THE MIST very much needed to be included so it could move the story along and set events in motion. Sure he could have said, "there was a bad storm outside." But wasn't it much better to see the details of the storm? To show the family sitting with candles in their home, to feel the fear of the parents as they watched the trees smack against the windows? This particular description of weather was so well written that even though it was 115 degrees without a cloud in the sky while I was reading it, I felt like there actually was a storm brewing outside.
Or how about the tornado in the WIZARD OF OZ? How would Dorothy have gotten to that strange and magical land if it weren't for a twister? How would the reader (or watcher) have felt the fear of the characters if the weather hadn't been described with great emphasis? Again, the weather was needed, and it's so much more fun to go into the details about the weather rather than just to write something simple like "it was windy," or "it was hot."
The weather is integral. Sure, some stories don't need anything about the weather included, because it really has nothing to do with the story. Most need a little description of what it's like outside. Others need a good chunk of emphasis on the happenings within the Coriolis effect. Hell, in some stories the weather actually becomes a character.
However, some literary agents hate the weather so much that they automatically dismiss a book and will read no further than the first sentence of chapter one if the author starts the story with describing the weather. I think agents who practice such subjective thinking are idiots who think they are some type of deity in the literary world but really are just stuck up pricks trying to tell the rest of us what they think good literature should be. You know what all you snobby agents who instantly think a book is crap because it starts with the weather? You're not only jerks, you're morons. I've read plenty of surprisingly great novels that start with boring old weather. Did I scoff at the author for starting the novel by talking about the weather? Obviously not. Of course dear agents, this is all my subjective opinion in an extremely subjective industry.
What I think it all boils down to is this; describe the weather when appropriate, but don't bore the reader with it and don't describe it when you don't need to. Weather is another one of those things in literature that every author must learn to tango with in every story, but I also think that's what writing is all about, learning to dance to the beat with your story.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Thank you firefighters!
On Mother's Day 2012, a cabin in Crown King, Arizona caught fire. Thousands of acres of forest and desert were burned in what came to be called the Gladiator Fire. Cabins were lost, several small towns had to be evacuated, and Arizona almost lost the gem ghost town of Crown King.
For two weeks the few hundred people who have come to love the rare jewel of Crown King watched the news, blogs, and podcasts for updates on the fire. Over a thousand firefighters battled against the Gladiator Fire, and after two nerve racking weeks claimed victory over the inferno.
I cannot sing the praises of firefighters enough. They work thirty-six hour shifts digging trenches, clearing brush, chopping down trees and risking their lives for complete strangers. That is truly amazing, and is the epitome of the greatness of the human spirit.
Firefighters, you are genuine heroes, and I cannot say thank you enough. Your bravery, courage, and compassion are extraordinary. You are true leaders, and I cannot express my gratitude enough for everything you do for our communities.
To all of the active and fallen heroes in fire stations across the country, thank you for what you do.
For two weeks the few hundred people who have come to love the rare jewel of Crown King watched the news, blogs, and podcasts for updates on the fire. Over a thousand firefighters battled against the Gladiator Fire, and after two nerve racking weeks claimed victory over the inferno.
I cannot sing the praises of firefighters enough. They work thirty-six hour shifts digging trenches, clearing brush, chopping down trees and risking their lives for complete strangers. That is truly amazing, and is the epitome of the greatness of the human spirit.
Firefighters, you are genuine heroes, and I cannot say thank you enough. Your bravery, courage, and compassion are extraordinary. You are true leaders, and I cannot express my gratitude enough for everything you do for our communities.
To all of the active and fallen heroes in fire stations across the country, thank you for what you do.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Where do you get your ideas from? A partial answer...
After sharing my work with more people lately, I keep getting the question of, "Where do you get your ideas from?"
What a silly question! Doesn't everyone know? I get them from a leprechaun I kidnapped from Offaly. I keep him locked in a dog kennel in my garage and every time I need a new idea, I hold a gun to his head and threaten to blow his little green brains out unless he tells me a good story. Oh don't worry, I toss him a beer now and then to say thanks and keep him happy.
Seriously though, I'm not quite sure where they come from, and I don't think other writers really know either. Your brain just starts pondering about something silly, and then it leads to another thought, and another, and like magic you realize you just created a new story.
But it is a question that really got me thinking about why my brain works the way it does, and why I think about the strange things I do. So I'd like to give you a bit of a glimpse at some of the experiences that have shaped my life as a writer.
One such thing is that I come from a family of wrenches and motorheads. Every time we get together the conversation always includes engines, classic cars, and our next riding trip. I've been riding dirt bikes and driving sand rails since I was in grade school, and I can't think of a better way to celebrate a warm weather holiday than to go to the woods or the Imperial Sand Dunes with my family. I love the thrill and adventure of the ride, and falling asleep at the end of the day listening to the lullaby of passing engines. Whenever I catch the scent of gasoline in the air I'm instantly transported to a memory of a ride, and smile even on the worst of days.
Another place my stories come from is fear. Everyone has a biggest fear in their life. For some people its fear of failure. For others its fear of public speaking. For me, its aliens.
Yes, I am deathly afraid of aliens.
Most people laugh and assume I'm kidding when I say that. I'm not. Aliens are scary things. They could be hiding anywhere and could zap you into their spaceship at any moment. That is terrifying.
I think the fear started when I was a little kid and my mom let me watch that movie Fire in the Sky. Its based on a true story about Travis Walton, a man who lived in Snowflake, Arizona, who was abducted by aliens. I couldn't sleep for weeks when I was a kid because I was so afraid of the power and control aliens could exert over us pip squeak humans.
A few years later, my dad and I were riding out quads on one of our trips up to the woods. Ever since I was little, on every family riding trip we take, my dad and I always go on a ride at night with just the two of us. Some of my best memories are of following my dad through the darkness, trusting that he'll light the way for me, just like he used to follow his dad when he was a kid.
On this ride, we stopped in a clearing to admire the stars. We sat in silence for a while, then started talking about just how damn big the universe is and all the possibilities it holds. And then my dad, not knowing that my fear of aliens had actually caused me to rearrange my room so that my dresser blocked the window in case the aliens tried to suck me out while I was sleeping, says, "I'm not sure if they exist, but how could you not entertain the idea of other intelligent life forms when the universe is so big? Especially because Earth is part of a young solar system, and look how far we've come. There's got to be something more advanced out there, don't you think?"
My ten year old face drained of all color. "You mean like aliens, Dad?"
"Yeah, I mean aliens. And especially with that guy who said he got sucked up by Heber."
"How far away are we from where they snatched him?"
"If you cut across the mountains, which aliens could if they were real, less than a hundred miles away."
Oh. Dear. God.
This is the moment that my fear of aliens went from being a silly childhood fear to an adult phobia. On that ride home I wanted to cry I was so scared, especially since when you're driving a quad through the woods at night all you can see is a wall of darkness behind you and nothing else. Those aliens could have grabbed me at any moment and I never would have seen them coming. It was a traumatizing experience, but I went on to write a good short story about it the following weekend.
Fast forward a few years.
Again my dad and I are on one of our night rides together, this time at the sand dunes. We drove out to the third set of dunes (this was before they put up that stupid wall to separate Mexico from the U.S. of course) and again stopped to admire the stars.
Now the third set of sand dunes is the equivalent of being in the middle of Sahara desert. There's nothing there, and hardly anyone ventures out that far. I've never seen anyone out there at night, and have only spotted a couple of people during the day over the years.
So again, my dad and I are in the BFE part of the dunes looking at the stars on our traditional night ride when we start to hear a noise. At first we ignore it, but it started getting so loud and close that we both had to comment on it. It sounded like a weird shuffling, scuttling noise, followed by clicking. Eventually it bugged my no nonsense, extremely logical, fearless father enough for him to yell, "What the hell is that?"
The sound came closer.
I asked my dad, "Do you think its an alien?"
"Probably. They're all over this area."
Crap!!
"Why would they be walking around? That's kind of weird, don't you think?"
My dad shakes his head. "Not really. It's easier to sneak up on us if they're on foot."
Shit!!!
"Let's get out of here," Dad says. "They may not be friendly and we don't want them to catch us. They can be real bad news."
OH MY GOD!!!!
So we go to start our bikes. Mine kicks up right away, but the starter button on the Polaris my dad borrowed from a friend was broken. As a back up, there's a pull start cord he'd been using all weekend. He yanks the cord, and it snaps in half. Without that cord, we can't start the bike at all. It's an automatic, which means you can't even roll it down a hill to make it go. My bike weighs half as much as the Polaris, and we have steep, 200 ft tall hills to climb.
Double shit, we're screwed.
Three hours later, shaking with exhaustion, we did make it back to camp with both bikes. Everyone said to me, "man kid, you must have been really worried, you're so pale even your freckles are white!"
I was worried. The ride home was a scary one because it was rough, and several times my dad and I almost flipped trying to tow that big honking bike back, so I was afraid one of us would get hurt. But I was more worried about being in the middle of nowhere surrounded by aliens who were trying to sneak up on us, because everyone knows they snatch you from secluded areas.
Looking back I can see how silly the conversation was, but it terrified me for years until I figured out what my dad meant, and further spurred my phobia. I understand now that my dad wasn't talking about visitors from the sky type aliens that night. He was talking about illegal aliens, the ones who sneak across the border into America, the ones who prompted the building of that big ugly wall I mentioned earlier. Do you see how confusing that conversation of aliens was? It did a lot of unintentional emotional damage.
Now my poor better half gets to deal with my irrational fear of aliens. At first he didn't believe me and thought I was trying to be unique or something when I admitted my fear. A few months after we started dating, I asked him to take me to a movie since he's not a big fan of going to movies and I am.
That night, I wanted to see Paranormal Activity. My better half couldn't remember the name of the movie I wanted to see, so I told the ticket guy, "two for The Fourth Kind."
My better half looks at me and says, "are you sure you want to see that?"
"Of course I'm sure. Why would I not know what movie I want to watch?"
"Okay, whatever you want."
See what happens when you get a little snappy, ladies? Your dude doesn't save you from what is sure to be a terrible experience. I knew I wanted to see Paranormal, but I had mixed up the titles with Fourth Kind without even knowing it. And of course after acting like a bit of a jerk, my better half didn't warn me that I asked to see an alien movie, not a ghost movie. Thanks, darling.
So we go into the movie and a few minutes into it I say, "wow, this is a really long preview."
"What?"
"This preview for that awful alien movie I'll never watch. It's really long."
My better half lets out a chuckle and says, "yep, they're making them longer these days because the economy is bad and they really want to make sure people like the movie before they spend the money to see it."
"That's silly. Don't mock me. I'm just saying its long."
I know. Total bonehead ditz thing for me to say. You'll have to forgive me, though. At the time I thought I was going to see the ghost movie, not the alien movie.
A few minutes later it clicks in my head and I shout, "Oh my, God! We're watching the alien movie!!" (Thank goodness this airhead episode happened after my better half found out my IQ was higher than 90 or I'm sure we never would have spoken again).
Now my better half starts cracking up laughing. "No it's not, it's just a really long preview."
"I can't believe you let me get tickets to this! We have to leave."
"No way, I just spent five hundred dollars to watch this preview and we're watching it."
"You suck."
"I love you."
Oh yeah, he thought he was sooo funny by letting me get tickets to that movie and making me watch it. Guess what two people didn't get any sleep for three weeks after that stunt? He has never made me watch an alien movie since (except the Alien movies because those are different) and always saves me whenever a friend says, "I got this alien movie we could watch," by karate chopping the movie out of the person's hands. Good man.
So there you have it, a partial answer to the question of "where do you get your ideas from?" I think most of them started in childhood with something that scared me, and then through a series of misunderstandings the fear heightens and continues to grow. This makes for a lot of sleepless nights with nothing to do but think about what could have happened if...
And that's really all a story is, an idea that begins with, "what if?"
Mine just happen to be a little on the strange side from my mother letting me watch too many scary movies as a kid, and my conversations as a child in the adult world that resulted in misunderstandings when one party thinks only of the real and rational, and the other thinks of the impossibilities of the universe that could be true in another realm.
What a silly question! Doesn't everyone know? I get them from a leprechaun I kidnapped from Offaly. I keep him locked in a dog kennel in my garage and every time I need a new idea, I hold a gun to his head and threaten to blow his little green brains out unless he tells me a good story. Oh don't worry, I toss him a beer now and then to say thanks and keep him happy.
Seriously though, I'm not quite sure where they come from, and I don't think other writers really know either. Your brain just starts pondering about something silly, and then it leads to another thought, and another, and like magic you realize you just created a new story.
But it is a question that really got me thinking about why my brain works the way it does, and why I think about the strange things I do. So I'd like to give you a bit of a glimpse at some of the experiences that have shaped my life as a writer.
One such thing is that I come from a family of wrenches and motorheads. Every time we get together the conversation always includes engines, classic cars, and our next riding trip. I've been riding dirt bikes and driving sand rails since I was in grade school, and I can't think of a better way to celebrate a warm weather holiday than to go to the woods or the Imperial Sand Dunes with my family. I love the thrill and adventure of the ride, and falling asleep at the end of the day listening to the lullaby of passing engines. Whenever I catch the scent of gasoline in the air I'm instantly transported to a memory of a ride, and smile even on the worst of days.
Another place my stories come from is fear. Everyone has a biggest fear in their life. For some people its fear of failure. For others its fear of public speaking. For me, its aliens.
Yes, I am deathly afraid of aliens.
Most people laugh and assume I'm kidding when I say that. I'm not. Aliens are scary things. They could be hiding anywhere and could zap you into their spaceship at any moment. That is terrifying.
I think the fear started when I was a little kid and my mom let me watch that movie Fire in the Sky. Its based on a true story about Travis Walton, a man who lived in Snowflake, Arizona, who was abducted by aliens. I couldn't sleep for weeks when I was a kid because I was so afraid of the power and control aliens could exert over us pip squeak humans.
A few years later, my dad and I were riding out quads on one of our trips up to the woods. Ever since I was little, on every family riding trip we take, my dad and I always go on a ride at night with just the two of us. Some of my best memories are of following my dad through the darkness, trusting that he'll light the way for me, just like he used to follow his dad when he was a kid.
On this ride, we stopped in a clearing to admire the stars. We sat in silence for a while, then started talking about just how damn big the universe is and all the possibilities it holds. And then my dad, not knowing that my fear of aliens had actually caused me to rearrange my room so that my dresser blocked the window in case the aliens tried to suck me out while I was sleeping, says, "I'm not sure if they exist, but how could you not entertain the idea of other intelligent life forms when the universe is so big? Especially because Earth is part of a young solar system, and look how far we've come. There's got to be something more advanced out there, don't you think?"
My ten year old face drained of all color. "You mean like aliens, Dad?"
"Yeah, I mean aliens. And especially with that guy who said he got sucked up by Heber."
"How far away are we from where they snatched him?"
"If you cut across the mountains, which aliens could if they were real, less than a hundred miles away."
Oh. Dear. God.
This is the moment that my fear of aliens went from being a silly childhood fear to an adult phobia. On that ride home I wanted to cry I was so scared, especially since when you're driving a quad through the woods at night all you can see is a wall of darkness behind you and nothing else. Those aliens could have grabbed me at any moment and I never would have seen them coming. It was a traumatizing experience, but I went on to write a good short story about it the following weekend.
Fast forward a few years.
Again my dad and I are on one of our night rides together, this time at the sand dunes. We drove out to the third set of dunes (this was before they put up that stupid wall to separate Mexico from the U.S. of course) and again stopped to admire the stars.
Now the third set of sand dunes is the equivalent of being in the middle of Sahara desert. There's nothing there, and hardly anyone ventures out that far. I've never seen anyone out there at night, and have only spotted a couple of people during the day over the years.
So again, my dad and I are in the BFE part of the dunes looking at the stars on our traditional night ride when we start to hear a noise. At first we ignore it, but it started getting so loud and close that we both had to comment on it. It sounded like a weird shuffling, scuttling noise, followed by clicking. Eventually it bugged my no nonsense, extremely logical, fearless father enough for him to yell, "What the hell is that?"
The sound came closer.
I asked my dad, "Do you think its an alien?"
"Probably. They're all over this area."
Crap!!
"Why would they be walking around? That's kind of weird, don't you think?"
My dad shakes his head. "Not really. It's easier to sneak up on us if they're on foot."
Shit!!!
"Let's get out of here," Dad says. "They may not be friendly and we don't want them to catch us. They can be real bad news."
OH MY GOD!!!!
So we go to start our bikes. Mine kicks up right away, but the starter button on the Polaris my dad borrowed from a friend was broken. As a back up, there's a pull start cord he'd been using all weekend. He yanks the cord, and it snaps in half. Without that cord, we can't start the bike at all. It's an automatic, which means you can't even roll it down a hill to make it go. My bike weighs half as much as the Polaris, and we have steep, 200 ft tall hills to climb.
Double shit, we're screwed.
Three hours later, shaking with exhaustion, we did make it back to camp with both bikes. Everyone said to me, "man kid, you must have been really worried, you're so pale even your freckles are white!"
I was worried. The ride home was a scary one because it was rough, and several times my dad and I almost flipped trying to tow that big honking bike back, so I was afraid one of us would get hurt. But I was more worried about being in the middle of nowhere surrounded by aliens who were trying to sneak up on us, because everyone knows they snatch you from secluded areas.
Looking back I can see how silly the conversation was, but it terrified me for years until I figured out what my dad meant, and further spurred my phobia. I understand now that my dad wasn't talking about visitors from the sky type aliens that night. He was talking about illegal aliens, the ones who sneak across the border into America, the ones who prompted the building of that big ugly wall I mentioned earlier. Do you see how confusing that conversation of aliens was? It did a lot of unintentional emotional damage.
Now my poor better half gets to deal with my irrational fear of aliens. At first he didn't believe me and thought I was trying to be unique or something when I admitted my fear. A few months after we started dating, I asked him to take me to a movie since he's not a big fan of going to movies and I am.
That night, I wanted to see Paranormal Activity. My better half couldn't remember the name of the movie I wanted to see, so I told the ticket guy, "two for The Fourth Kind."
My better half looks at me and says, "are you sure you want to see that?"
"Of course I'm sure. Why would I not know what movie I want to watch?"
"Okay, whatever you want."
See what happens when you get a little snappy, ladies? Your dude doesn't save you from what is sure to be a terrible experience. I knew I wanted to see Paranormal, but I had mixed up the titles with Fourth Kind without even knowing it. And of course after acting like a bit of a jerk, my better half didn't warn me that I asked to see an alien movie, not a ghost movie. Thanks, darling.
So we go into the movie and a few minutes into it I say, "wow, this is a really long preview."
"What?"
"This preview for that awful alien movie I'll never watch. It's really long."
My better half lets out a chuckle and says, "yep, they're making them longer these days because the economy is bad and they really want to make sure people like the movie before they spend the money to see it."
"That's silly. Don't mock me. I'm just saying its long."
I know. Total bonehead ditz thing for me to say. You'll have to forgive me, though. At the time I thought I was going to see the ghost movie, not the alien movie.
A few minutes later it clicks in my head and I shout, "Oh my, God! We're watching the alien movie!!" (Thank goodness this airhead episode happened after my better half found out my IQ was higher than 90 or I'm sure we never would have spoken again).
Now my better half starts cracking up laughing. "No it's not, it's just a really long preview."
"I can't believe you let me get tickets to this! We have to leave."
"No way, I just spent five hundred dollars to watch this preview and we're watching it."
"You suck."
"I love you."
Oh yeah, he thought he was sooo funny by letting me get tickets to that movie and making me watch it. Guess what two people didn't get any sleep for three weeks after that stunt? He has never made me watch an alien movie since (except the Alien movies because those are different) and always saves me whenever a friend says, "I got this alien movie we could watch," by karate chopping the movie out of the person's hands. Good man.
So there you have it, a partial answer to the question of "where do you get your ideas from?" I think most of them started in childhood with something that scared me, and then through a series of misunderstandings the fear heightens and continues to grow. This makes for a lot of sleepless nights with nothing to do but think about what could have happened if...
And that's really all a story is, an idea that begins with, "what if?"
Mine just happen to be a little on the strange side from my mother letting me watch too many scary movies as a kid, and my conversations as a child in the adult world that resulted in misunderstandings when one party thinks only of the real and rational, and the other thinks of the impossibilities of the universe that could be true in another realm.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Book Review: The Witch of Starmont by Linda Ash
My rating: 4 1/2 stars
Just finished reading THE WITCH OF STARMONT by Linda Ash, and I must say I was pleasantly surprised. At first was a bit skeptical when reading the description of this book. It basically stated that it was about a gardener named Mara who had a secret her ex-husband was holding over her head that would stifle any chance of happiness she may have. To me it sounded trite, that there was nothing new this book could offer, and that I already knew what the witch's secret was. Boy was I wrong! I read the first page and instantly loved the story!
The tale begins with Mara hiring Johnathan and his crew to build a new bridge over her stream. The author's voice was delightful and uplifting even through Mara's sadness. I instantly felt right at home with Mara, and this is one of the few books where I felt like I was in the story rather than just reading it.
The spark between Mara and Johnathan was believable instead of one of those gushy tales where the main characters instantly fall head over heels for each other and say stupid gushy things. Their romance was genuine and really reflected the reality of these two peoples lives.
I instantly despised the vile ex-husband. He was an all out jerk, one of those characters you love to hate.
And the secret itself? I was truly surprised when the author finally revealed what it was because it was something I never would have guessed. I think it was the secret more than anything that made me really love this story since I've never read a book about it before. I actually had no idea what the secret was when the main character finally confessed it, and I'm so glad the author gave me a little clarification without going into too much detail.
There were only a couple things I wasn't a fan of, and that was that some of the lesser characters seemed a little flat. I also felt like the ending had too much resolution too quickly. I would have liked to see more of what had happened after the story took an unexpected twist, and would have preferred a little more detail about the ending.
That being said, overall I thought that THE WITCH OF STARMONT was a wonderful read. It was cozy, refreashing, kept me guessing, and was full of surprises. I would definitely recommend this to anyone who wants a good book about myth mixed with reality they can happily get lost in in one afternoon. Kudos to the author Linda Ash! I'm looking forward to reading another one of her books and hope the next story will delight me just as much as this one did.
Just finished reading THE WITCH OF STARMONT by Linda Ash, and I must say I was pleasantly surprised. At first was a bit skeptical when reading the description of this book. It basically stated that it was about a gardener named Mara who had a secret her ex-husband was holding over her head that would stifle any chance of happiness she may have. To me it sounded trite, that there was nothing new this book could offer, and that I already knew what the witch's secret was. Boy was I wrong! I read the first page and instantly loved the story!
The tale begins with Mara hiring Johnathan and his crew to build a new bridge over her stream. The author's voice was delightful and uplifting even through Mara's sadness. I instantly felt right at home with Mara, and this is one of the few books where I felt like I was in the story rather than just reading it.
The spark between Mara and Johnathan was believable instead of one of those gushy tales where the main characters instantly fall head over heels for each other and say stupid gushy things. Their romance was genuine and really reflected the reality of these two peoples lives.
I instantly despised the vile ex-husband. He was an all out jerk, one of those characters you love to hate.
And the secret itself? I was truly surprised when the author finally revealed what it was because it was something I never would have guessed. I think it was the secret more than anything that made me really love this story since I've never read a book about it before. I actually had no idea what the secret was when the main character finally confessed it, and I'm so glad the author gave me a little clarification without going into too much detail.
There were only a couple things I wasn't a fan of, and that was that some of the lesser characters seemed a little flat. I also felt like the ending had too much resolution too quickly. I would have liked to see more of what had happened after the story took an unexpected twist, and would have preferred a little more detail about the ending.
That being said, overall I thought that THE WITCH OF STARMONT was a wonderful read. It was cozy, refreashing, kept me guessing, and was full of surprises. I would definitely recommend this to anyone who wants a good book about myth mixed with reality they can happily get lost in in one afternoon. Kudos to the author Linda Ash! I'm looking forward to reading another one of her books and hope the next story will delight me just as much as this one did.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Short Stories
Years ago I used to dabble with sending out a short story here and there for publication. I didn't really submit too much because I hated waiting for six months or more to hear back from a magazine to find out if the editor liked my story or not. It was especially irritating when after eight months of checking the mail I'd get a ripped and stained Return to Sender envelope because the magazine had either moved or gone out of business. I'm not a patient person, and so due to incredibly long wait times I think I only submitted two stories, and between the two maybe sent them out a half a dozen times if that.
One such story I only sent out twice before it actually got published. After that I just stopped doing it because I was on to serious novel writing, and of course between working full time, going to school full time, and writing a book, that left little time for much else, and so short story writing came to a halt.
For a few years after I wrote my first full length novel DECEPTIONS, I pretty much stopped writing. Here and there I'd write a short story or two, but not on a regular basis. At the beginning of this year I did pick up writing again, and now that school is over (at least until summer school starts in two weeks) I have a little more free time and thought I'd start submitting some shorties again.
I did find my old short story I had published, called "Dangerous Curves" (no, its not a story about a sexy lady) and put it under my new short stories tab. This was originally accepted for publication when I was in my late teens, so it's been years since I've actually looked at it. I did pull it out a few days ago when dusting off my pile of shorties and was really impressed by how much I liked it. When this was accepted for publication, I had cut out so much of the story before it got picked up that I thought no one would want it since at the time I thought it wasn't very good. But after reading it last week I discovered it was really good, that it was a cool story with very good writing. This one is published under my full name, so don't let that throw you off when you go to read it. And I highly recommend yo uread it because it is quite good.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story, and I look forward to filling in my short story section in the near future, although most magazines move at the rate of molasses in winter time so I expect it will be a while before I have more to share.
One such story I only sent out twice before it actually got published. After that I just stopped doing it because I was on to serious novel writing, and of course between working full time, going to school full time, and writing a book, that left little time for much else, and so short story writing came to a halt.
For a few years after I wrote my first full length novel DECEPTIONS, I pretty much stopped writing. Here and there I'd write a short story or two, but not on a regular basis. At the beginning of this year I did pick up writing again, and now that school is over (at least until summer school starts in two weeks) I have a little more free time and thought I'd start submitting some shorties again.
I did find my old short story I had published, called "Dangerous Curves" (no, its not a story about a sexy lady) and put it under my new short stories tab. This was originally accepted for publication when I was in my late teens, so it's been years since I've actually looked at it. I did pull it out a few days ago when dusting off my pile of shorties and was really impressed by how much I liked it. When this was accepted for publication, I had cut out so much of the story before it got picked up that I thought no one would want it since at the time I thought it wasn't very good. But after reading it last week I discovered it was really good, that it was a cool story with very good writing. This one is published under my full name, so don't let that throw you off when you go to read it. And I highly recommend yo uread it because it is quite good.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story, and I look forward to filling in my short story section in the near future, although most magazines move at the rate of molasses in winter time so I expect it will be a while before I have more to share.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Sneak Peek at G-157
My first novel G-157 is in its final stages of editing, and will be published on Amazon in June. While I'm still waiting for a few readers to send the book back to me with their reports of the good, the bad, and the ugly, I thought I'd share the first chapter. I've added a sneak peek heading for anyone who would like to take a gander.
This book is what I'd call a literary novel mixed with a touch of science fiction. It's basically about a girl that can't stand living in her "perfect" community, only we know a perfect community can't really exist, now can it? Here's the book description I think I'm going to go with when I actually publish it, but am still working on it because I, like most authors, have a hard time condensing a novel into two paragraphs. Hope everyone enjoys it!
John's Town, created when the Utopian society of the United Community of Johnson was formed, knows no greed, violence, or poverty. Yet Aire has always been suspicious of the smiling faces. Photographs of extinct civilizations in her school history books make her uneasy. So does the military, who strangely “recruits” young children and old women in the night after they have emotional outbursts. Electronic billboards surround the city and send anyone who passes them into seizures.
When people begin to disappear in the masses, Aire knows there is definitely something wrong with her world and decides to flee. There’s just one problem--no one gets to leave John’s Town alive.
This book is what I'd call a literary novel mixed with a touch of science fiction. It's basically about a girl that can't stand living in her "perfect" community, only we know a perfect community can't really exist, now can it? Here's the book description I think I'm going to go with when I actually publish it, but am still working on it because I, like most authors, have a hard time condensing a novel into two paragraphs. Hope everyone enjoys it!
John's Town, created when the Utopian society of the United Community of Johnson was formed, knows no greed, violence, or poverty. Yet Aire has always been suspicious of the smiling faces. Photographs of extinct civilizations in her school history books make her uneasy. So does the military, who strangely “recruits” young children and old women in the night after they have emotional outbursts. Electronic billboards surround the city and send anyone who passes them into seizures.
When people begin to disappear in the masses, Aire knows there is definitely something wrong with her world and decides to flee. There’s just one problem--no one gets to leave John’s Town alive.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
The bar that will never burn
Thought I'd share some interesting facts what with one of my favorite places in the world burning to the ground.
Crown King, AZ is home to the oldest working bar in the state of Arizona. It's been in operation for over a hundred years and has survived dozens of fires. I find it truly amazing that every other building in crown king has burned down except for the saloon, and some of the burning history is very comical in a way because it's fire history goes something like this (not all years are historically accurate):
1904 Crown King burns, saloon saved!
1923 school burns, saloon saved!
1950 church burns, saloon saved!
1961 fire station burns, saloon saved!
1988 tie house burns, saloon saved!
2003 bar and cafe burns, saloon saved!
As of this writing Crown King is once again in danger of burning. The Gladiator fire that started on Sunday has burned around 2,000 acres of the Bradshaw Mountains. The fire is only 5% contained, and AZ is expected to have high winds all week. I sincerely hope no one else will lose their home (three cabins have very unfortunately burned), but at least we know one thing; the saloon will be saved.
Crown King, AZ is home to the oldest working bar in the state of Arizona. It's been in operation for over a hundred years and has survived dozens of fires. I find it truly amazing that every other building in crown king has burned down except for the saloon, and some of the burning history is very comical in a way because it's fire history goes something like this (not all years are historically accurate):
1904 Crown King burns, saloon saved!
1923 school burns, saloon saved!
1950 church burns, saloon saved!
1961 fire station burns, saloon saved!
1988 tie house burns, saloon saved!
2003 bar and cafe burns, saloon saved!
As of this writing Crown King is once again in danger of burning. The Gladiator fire that started on Sunday has burned around 2,000 acres of the Bradshaw Mountains. The fire is only 5% contained, and AZ is expected to have high winds all week. I sincerely hope no one else will lose their home (three cabins have very unfortunately burned), but at least we know one thing; the saloon will be saved.
"Rules" on Writing Part Two-Prologues
One of the rules on writing states to never use prologues. This is something I mostly agree with, although I don't think anyone should ever listen to writing rules. Usually when I pick up a new book, I want to skip right over the prologue because I think if you really have a story to tell, then start it at chapter one. If it doesn't start there then it's obviously not important, and the prologue is a bunch of boring back story no one cares about. Of course there are always exceptions to this.
Sometimes a story truly needs a prologue because there isn't an artful way to incorporate that particular nugget into the story itself. In the five novels I've written, only one has a prologue, and it's only a page long at best. In my novel G-157, the back story of how this world came to be needed to be told upfront. Otherwise the reader would be very confused as to what the heck was going on in the story and why certain events and people were the way they were. In these scenarios prologues are extremely helpful, and over the years I've learned to always read prologues even though I have a personal bias that makes me not want to do so.
Prologues are a baneful irritation when they tell you something that you very well could have figured out on your own. The worst one I ever read was almost thirty pages. That's right, thirty pages. Bah!! But I did read it, and really wished I hadn't.
First off, the book jacket already told me the main character's parents were killed in an Asian country. What was the prologue about? The main characters parents being killed in said Asian country. Dumb. And it wasn't like the author needed to add more pages because the darn thing was already over five hundred. Why waste your time and the reader's time telling us a story about something not important that we learned in two seconds from the back of the book?
Second, in this prologue it described how someone the parents thought was their friend was actually a backstabber and caused their demise. The friend comes into the main character's adventure five pages into the book only to screw them over at the end. Wouldn't it be much more dramatic and cause a better twist at the end if we had found out at page 475 that the friend was a jerk instead of learning this knowledge at page four? Because the whole time I was thinking, I know he's going to screw the main character over so I don't care much about reading this anymore.
Third, the bad guys were also introduced in the prologue and were trying to kill the main character within the first chapter. Again, it would have been so much better if we found out the connection between the bad guys, the main character, and the main character's parents at the end. This would have not only made the book more suspenseful, but I wouldn't have been reading about the main character the whole time thinking, okay when is this ditz going to get knocked off?
However, prologues are a great and necessary vehicle for a story when they are kept short and only include minimal background information. The screenplays for the Star Wars movies are excellent examples of prologues used well. They're only a few paragraphs, they give us some background information so we understand the conflict, they let you know key characters' standpoints, and they bridge in time gap information. Perfect!
So though the rules of writing say don't use a prologue, I say use them whenever needed and don't regret your decision about it, because really there are no rules for writing. If you read enough, you will understand the difference between a good, necessary prologue, and one that has no business being there. Follow your own rules for prologues, not those of someone else.
Sometimes a story truly needs a prologue because there isn't an artful way to incorporate that particular nugget into the story itself. In the five novels I've written, only one has a prologue, and it's only a page long at best. In my novel G-157, the back story of how this world came to be needed to be told upfront. Otherwise the reader would be very confused as to what the heck was going on in the story and why certain events and people were the way they were. In these scenarios prologues are extremely helpful, and over the years I've learned to always read prologues even though I have a personal bias that makes me not want to do so.
Prologues are a baneful irritation when they tell you something that you very well could have figured out on your own. The worst one I ever read was almost thirty pages. That's right, thirty pages. Bah!! But I did read it, and really wished I hadn't.
First off, the book jacket already told me the main character's parents were killed in an Asian country. What was the prologue about? The main characters parents being killed in said Asian country. Dumb. And it wasn't like the author needed to add more pages because the darn thing was already over five hundred. Why waste your time and the reader's time telling us a story about something not important that we learned in two seconds from the back of the book?
Second, in this prologue it described how someone the parents thought was their friend was actually a backstabber and caused their demise. The friend comes into the main character's adventure five pages into the book only to screw them over at the end. Wouldn't it be much more dramatic and cause a better twist at the end if we had found out at page 475 that the friend was a jerk instead of learning this knowledge at page four? Because the whole time I was thinking, I know he's going to screw the main character over so I don't care much about reading this anymore.
Third, the bad guys were also introduced in the prologue and were trying to kill the main character within the first chapter. Again, it would have been so much better if we found out the connection between the bad guys, the main character, and the main character's parents at the end. This would have not only made the book more suspenseful, but I wouldn't have been reading about the main character the whole time thinking, okay when is this ditz going to get knocked off?
However, prologues are a great and necessary vehicle for a story when they are kept short and only include minimal background information. The screenplays for the Star Wars movies are excellent examples of prologues used well. They're only a few paragraphs, they give us some background information so we understand the conflict, they let you know key characters' standpoints, and they bridge in time gap information. Perfect!
So though the rules of writing say don't use a prologue, I say use them whenever needed and don't regret your decision about it, because really there are no rules for writing. If you read enough, you will understand the difference between a good, necessary prologue, and one that has no business being there. Follow your own rules for prologues, not those of someone else.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Useless Knowledge: Blue Foods
My better half and I went out with a friend last night and during the course of our random conversations our friend said, "Don't eat blue foods." Apparently he had a math teacher that advised his class to never eat naturally blue foods, but didn't explain why. It got me to thinking, what foods are blue? And why shouldn't you eat them? The only blue food I could think of was blueberries, which our friend argued aren't blue, they're purple. I went on a mission to discover blue foods and why you shouldn't eat them. Here's what I found:
Blue Foods
Blueberries (though they have a purple tinge)
Blue Corn
Blue Lobster (thought the meat turns red when you cook it)
Blue Crayfish (though they're normally kept as pets)
Blue grapes
Blue rosemary flowers
Blabar (kind of like a blueberry in that some have a purple tint)
Starflowers
Prunus Spinosa
Blue potato (again a little purple but mostly blue)
Blue Cup Fungi (not sure if this should be on the list because all I found was that it was probably edible)
Butterfly blue peas
And the reason the math teacher said not to eat blue food? Because it's an evolutionary instinct to avoid blue things in nature since they're usually poisonous...
But so are red things, and yellow things, and orange things, and we eat a bunch of those...hmm. Another unsolved mystery.
Blue Foods
Blueberries (though they have a purple tinge)
Blue Corn
Blue Lobster (thought the meat turns red when you cook it)
Blue Crayfish (though they're normally kept as pets)
Blue grapes
Blue rosemary flowers
Blabar (kind of like a blueberry in that some have a purple tint)
Starflowers
Prunus Spinosa
Blue potato (again a little purple but mostly blue)
Blue Cup Fungi (not sure if this should be on the list because all I found was that it was probably edible)
Butterfly blue peas
And the reason the math teacher said not to eat blue food? Because it's an evolutionary instinct to avoid blue things in nature since they're usually poisonous...
But so are red things, and yellow things, and orange things, and we eat a bunch of those...hmm. Another unsolved mystery.
"Rules" on Writing Part One
I recently came across an article that was all about everything you shouldn't do while writing that went something like this:
Don't use prologues
Don't talk about the weather
Don't use adverbs
Don't use description about the setting
Don't use exclamation marks
Don't use anything other than said to carry dialogue
Don't use regional dialogue
Don't describe characters
Don't use big paragraphs
Wow. That is a lot of don'ts. And you know what they all boil down to? No writing at all. If you can't do anything listed above, then you can't tell a story at all now can you? If these rules were followed, your story would be a paragraph at best with your characters talking about nothing, and they would simply "say" everything.
So you know what I have to say about writing rules? Screw them. Don't even think about them at all when you're writing. If you follow the rules then you completely lose what fiction is supposed to be. Fiction is all about telling the truth as you see it and breaking all the rules to tell the story how it wants to be told. I mean, if everyone followed the "rules" of writing, everyone would write the same, which would mean reading would be boring and no one would have a favorite author.
My advice is to ignore all of these rules and write a story how it wants to come out. Maybe it wants to be written in a flowing artsy fashion. Maybe it wants to be terse and to the point. Maybe it wants to move at breakneck speed. Maybe it wants you to linger for a while within its pages. Whatever the case may be, always write the story how it wants to come out.
With that being said, every author does have their own no-no's they try to avoid when writing. Personally I think of none of mine when writing a first draft because it's the story that matters at that point, not the technique. For the majority of writers, their first draft is usually a piece of crap anyway, but that's why revisions were invented.
When getting into the revision process, I do have things I begin to add or weed out. Mostly I add because I'm a skeleton writer and want to get the scenes out as quickly as possible so I can discover what happens next, so there usually isn't very much in the first draft that makes the characters and their world come alive for the reader. While doing revisions I tend to break almost every rule above in order to make my story come alive and do my best to make the reader feel like they're in the same world as the characters.
In subsequent posts I'll touch on each of the "Don'ts" listed above and why I agree and disagree with every single one. By no means do I claim to be an expert at fiction writing, and this is not a how-to on writing (Stephen King pretty much dominated that in his book ON WRITING). These are simply my humble thoughts and opinions on what I think constitutes good fiction, and readers are more than welcome to share their own and open up discussions.
Don't use prologues
Don't talk about the weather
Don't use adverbs
Don't use description about the setting
Don't use exclamation marks
Don't use anything other than said to carry dialogue
Don't use regional dialogue
Don't describe characters
Don't use big paragraphs
Wow. That is a lot of don'ts. And you know what they all boil down to? No writing at all. If you can't do anything listed above, then you can't tell a story at all now can you? If these rules were followed, your story would be a paragraph at best with your characters talking about nothing, and they would simply "say" everything.
So you know what I have to say about writing rules? Screw them. Don't even think about them at all when you're writing. If you follow the rules then you completely lose what fiction is supposed to be. Fiction is all about telling the truth as you see it and breaking all the rules to tell the story how it wants to be told. I mean, if everyone followed the "rules" of writing, everyone would write the same, which would mean reading would be boring and no one would have a favorite author.
My advice is to ignore all of these rules and write a story how it wants to come out. Maybe it wants to be written in a flowing artsy fashion. Maybe it wants to be terse and to the point. Maybe it wants to move at breakneck speed. Maybe it wants you to linger for a while within its pages. Whatever the case may be, always write the story how it wants to come out.
With that being said, every author does have their own no-no's they try to avoid when writing. Personally I think of none of mine when writing a first draft because it's the story that matters at that point, not the technique. For the majority of writers, their first draft is usually a piece of crap anyway, but that's why revisions were invented.
When getting into the revision process, I do have things I begin to add or weed out. Mostly I add because I'm a skeleton writer and want to get the scenes out as quickly as possible so I can discover what happens next, so there usually isn't very much in the first draft that makes the characters and their world come alive for the reader. While doing revisions I tend to break almost every rule above in order to make my story come alive and do my best to make the reader feel like they're in the same world as the characters.
In subsequent posts I'll touch on each of the "Don'ts" listed above and why I agree and disagree with every single one. By no means do I claim to be an expert at fiction writing, and this is not a how-to on writing (Stephen King pretty much dominated that in his book ON WRITING). These are simply my humble thoughts and opinions on what I think constitutes good fiction, and readers are more than welcome to share their own and open up discussions.
Monday, May 14, 2012
To flick or not to flick
I heard on the radio not too long ago about a guy who flicked his three year old niece in the face because she was being mean to his new baby. Everyone who called into the radio station was outraged over this incident and said they would go over and beat the crap out of this guy. I don't see the huge deal.
Now, I don't think you should flick kids in the face, but in the big scheme of things it could have been worse. I mean, he could have punched her in the face. Or kicked her in the head. For that I would go beat the crap out of the guy. But flicking? No. I'd say, hey dude, can you not do that again? And that would be the end of it.
I don't have children, so maybe that's why I don't understand the significance of the event. Kids get annoying. Flicking hardly seems the worst thing you can do when they're being annoying and aren't listening. But like I said, since I don't have children I probably can't fathom the situation in its entirety.
So I started thinking, who would have to be flicked to provoke rage in me? If you flick my dogs, I won't mind, as long as you don't flick them in the eyes and you're not doing it to annoy them and you're doing it because they're doing something annoying, like incessantly licking you. If you flick one of the kids in my family, I'd say hey that's not cool, but I wouldn't freak out. If you flicked my better half or my parents, I wouldn't mind because they would handle the situation themselves. If you flicked my grandpa I wouldn't mind because he would rip your face off.
And then I got to my grandma. If you flicked my grandma I would go from mellow to enraged in half a second and be on the attack. Not because you hurt my grandma, but because my grandma is one of the sweetest, most kind and wise ladies I've ever known. If you flicked her, she'd say something like, "Go ahead, I can take the daggers you throw at me," and not do anything to retaliate. Which is exactly why I would freak out. You don't kick nice, wise old ladies.
So who would you freak out about if they were flicked?
Now, I don't think you should flick kids in the face, but in the big scheme of things it could have been worse. I mean, he could have punched her in the face. Or kicked her in the head. For that I would go beat the crap out of the guy. But flicking? No. I'd say, hey dude, can you not do that again? And that would be the end of it.
I don't have children, so maybe that's why I don't understand the significance of the event. Kids get annoying. Flicking hardly seems the worst thing you can do when they're being annoying and aren't listening. But like I said, since I don't have children I probably can't fathom the situation in its entirety.
So I started thinking, who would have to be flicked to provoke rage in me? If you flick my dogs, I won't mind, as long as you don't flick them in the eyes and you're not doing it to annoy them and you're doing it because they're doing something annoying, like incessantly licking you. If you flick one of the kids in my family, I'd say hey that's not cool, but I wouldn't freak out. If you flicked my better half or my parents, I wouldn't mind because they would handle the situation themselves. If you flicked my grandpa I wouldn't mind because he would rip your face off.
And then I got to my grandma. If you flicked my grandma I would go from mellow to enraged in half a second and be on the attack. Not because you hurt my grandma, but because my grandma is one of the sweetest, most kind and wise ladies I've ever known. If you flicked her, she'd say something like, "Go ahead, I can take the daggers you throw at me," and not do anything to retaliate. Which is exactly why I would freak out. You don't kick nice, wise old ladies.
So who would you freak out about if they were flicked?
I'm never taking the elevator again
I had to go downtown today for an interview for a really great job I'm hoping I'll get, but after my interview opener I'm thinking I'm not going to get a call back from them. Now I did everything I was supposed to do and made sure I looked my most professional, had several copies of my resume and references, and left way earlier than necessary to ensure I would arrive fifteen minutes early to my interview. I found parking right away, and quickly figured out where the suite was.
Now, I've developed a bit of a claustrophobia problem over the years. I'm not sure what caused it or how I could possibly be afraid of being in small spaces, but I am and I notice myself beginning to panic whenever I'm in smaller or overly crowded areas. Elevators are one place that causes this anxiety. I'm not one of those people who starts climbing the walls and screaming, "let me out," while running around like a mad person, but I do feel a bit of anxiety whenever I step into those death traps and try to take the stairs whenever I can.
There were no stairs in the building I was in today (other than the fire escape stairs), so I got into the elevator and pushed the second floor button. The doors closed behind me, and I waited to be taken up to the second floor. And waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing. I figure the elevator must be broken, and press the button to open the door so I could find another elevator to take. Nothing happened. I pushed the door open button again. Nothing. After the 15th time I push the button I completely lose control. Instant panic sets in and I start sweating, my fingers are numb as I push every single button praying one of them will work. I can feel my face go numb from breathing too hard when all of my attempts to make this death trap do something fail. So I did the only other thing I could think to do. I start pounding on the door as hard as I can and yelling for someone to help. I try prying the doors apart. Nothing. No movement. No heroic rescue. No super act of strength to escape the damn thing. I'm about ready to climb on the handrails and shimmy out through a light fixture into the elevator shaft like they do on spy movies when my minuscule amount of logic sets in and I push the assistance button.
I stand and wait, hoping someone will answer. No one does, and I become convinced the devil is in the elevator waiting to get me just like in that one movie where five people are killed off one by one by Satan in a jammed elevator. I push it again. And again. And again. Silence. As soon as I say screw it and lift my foot to step on the handrail, the most beautiful, crackling static voice I've ever heard comes on.
"Can I help you?"
My voice comes out so fast and frantic the guy doesn't understand what the hell I said so I repeat myself. "Oh God yes! Please help me I'm trapped in this elevator and I'm going to climb out like a karate ninja cat in two seconds if I can't escape!"
"I'm sorry, did you say there's a cat trapped in the elevator?"
"No, I'm a cat trapped in the elevator." (This is what happens when you panic. You say idiot things like you're a cat in an elevator.)
"I'm sorry, your cat is trapped in the elevator?"
"No! There is no cat! I'm trapped in the elevator! Please have someone let me out."
"So there is no cat?"
"No! I'm trapped. Please come help me."
"Did you press the button for the floor you needed?"
"Yes. Nothing happened."
"Did you press the open door button?"
"Yes. It didn't work. The elevator isn't going anywhere and the door won't open."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes I'm sure. I know how to push buttons."
"Are you in the X lobby elevator?"
"Yes."
"That elevator is broken."
(Thank you, genius.) "Yes I know, that's why I'm trapped in here now."
"Why did you go in there in the first place?"
"There was no sign to say it was broken and the door opened."
"You shouldn't have gone in there. That elevator is broken."
(The beautiful, crackling static voice is no longer the sweetest voice I've ever heard. It's now the dumbest. But at least my irritation is superseding my panic, so I guess it was a good thing Forest Gump was on duty today) "I know its broken. I know that! There was no sign and now I'm stuck in here. Can you send someone to open the door?"
"Maintenance isn't scheduled to come until Thursday." (It's Monday today.)
"Okay, so how does that help me now?"
"Come back on Thursday when the elevator is in service."
"Are you kidding me? Did you not hear me say-"
And then the door opens. There's an older man in a business suite staring back at me from the lobby as crackling static voice asks me to repeat what I said. Older guy in a business suite gives me an odd look as I pick up my folder full of resumes and block him from coming into the elevator.
"The elevator is broken. You'll get trapped in there."
"Oh really," older suite guy says. "Why don't they have a sign on the door then?"
"I don't know. Can you point me to the stairs please?"
He does. After 17 minutes of being trapped in the elevator, I make it to my interview with five minutes to spare. My face is pale, I'm sweaty, and I'm sure my eyes look like a bush baby's because when the interviewer saw me she kind of frowned and gave me a weird look. I told her the elevator door malfunctioned and I was stuck in there for a few minutes with no air conditioner. She just goes, "hmm," and we begin the actual interview, which went really great except for the fact that I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm the biggest idiot in the world.
Now, I've developed a bit of a claustrophobia problem over the years. I'm not sure what caused it or how I could possibly be afraid of being in small spaces, but I am and I notice myself beginning to panic whenever I'm in smaller or overly crowded areas. Elevators are one place that causes this anxiety. I'm not one of those people who starts climbing the walls and screaming, "let me out," while running around like a mad person, but I do feel a bit of anxiety whenever I step into those death traps and try to take the stairs whenever I can.
There were no stairs in the building I was in today (other than the fire escape stairs), so I got into the elevator and pushed the second floor button. The doors closed behind me, and I waited to be taken up to the second floor. And waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing. I figure the elevator must be broken, and press the button to open the door so I could find another elevator to take. Nothing happened. I pushed the door open button again. Nothing. After the 15th time I push the button I completely lose control. Instant panic sets in and I start sweating, my fingers are numb as I push every single button praying one of them will work. I can feel my face go numb from breathing too hard when all of my attempts to make this death trap do something fail. So I did the only other thing I could think to do. I start pounding on the door as hard as I can and yelling for someone to help. I try prying the doors apart. Nothing. No movement. No heroic rescue. No super act of strength to escape the damn thing. I'm about ready to climb on the handrails and shimmy out through a light fixture into the elevator shaft like they do on spy movies when my minuscule amount of logic sets in and I push the assistance button.
I stand and wait, hoping someone will answer. No one does, and I become convinced the devil is in the elevator waiting to get me just like in that one movie where five people are killed off one by one by Satan in a jammed elevator. I push it again. And again. And again. Silence. As soon as I say screw it and lift my foot to step on the handrail, the most beautiful, crackling static voice I've ever heard comes on.
"Can I help you?"
My voice comes out so fast and frantic the guy doesn't understand what the hell I said so I repeat myself. "Oh God yes! Please help me I'm trapped in this elevator and I'm going to climb out like a karate ninja cat in two seconds if I can't escape!"
"I'm sorry, did you say there's a cat trapped in the elevator?"
"No, I'm a cat trapped in the elevator." (This is what happens when you panic. You say idiot things like you're a cat in an elevator.)
"I'm sorry, your cat is trapped in the elevator?"
"No! There is no cat! I'm trapped in the elevator! Please have someone let me out."
"So there is no cat?"
"No! I'm trapped. Please come help me."
"Did you press the button for the floor you needed?"
"Yes. Nothing happened."
"Did you press the open door button?"
"Yes. It didn't work. The elevator isn't going anywhere and the door won't open."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes I'm sure. I know how to push buttons."
"Are you in the X lobby elevator?"
"Yes."
"That elevator is broken."
(Thank you, genius.) "Yes I know, that's why I'm trapped in here now."
"Why did you go in there in the first place?"
"There was no sign to say it was broken and the door opened."
"You shouldn't have gone in there. That elevator is broken."
(The beautiful, crackling static voice is no longer the sweetest voice I've ever heard. It's now the dumbest. But at least my irritation is superseding my panic, so I guess it was a good thing Forest Gump was on duty today) "I know its broken. I know that! There was no sign and now I'm stuck in here. Can you send someone to open the door?"
"Maintenance isn't scheduled to come until Thursday." (It's Monday today.)
"Okay, so how does that help me now?"
"Come back on Thursday when the elevator is in service."
"Are you kidding me? Did you not hear me say-"
And then the door opens. There's an older man in a business suite staring back at me from the lobby as crackling static voice asks me to repeat what I said. Older guy in a business suite gives me an odd look as I pick up my folder full of resumes and block him from coming into the elevator.
"The elevator is broken. You'll get trapped in there."
"Oh really," older suite guy says. "Why don't they have a sign on the door then?"
"I don't know. Can you point me to the stairs please?"
He does. After 17 minutes of being trapped in the elevator, I make it to my interview with five minutes to spare. My face is pale, I'm sweaty, and I'm sure my eyes look like a bush baby's because when the interviewer saw me she kind of frowned and gave me a weird look. I told her the elevator door malfunctioned and I was stuck in there for a few minutes with no air conditioner. She just goes, "hmm," and we begin the actual interview, which went really great except for the fact that I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm the biggest idiot in the world.
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