Friday, July 6, 2012

Rattlesnake Bites – Building Tension

I escaped and rode hard, heading west to put as much distance as possible between me and the gunman Claire hired. Dillon Manley, notorious fast-draw killer, followed me . . . barely one day back.

The rapidly setting Colorado sun made travel too dangerous, so I set up a crude camp, only without a fire that might help Claire’s assassin find me.

Will Manley also bed down? I wondered as I tethered my horse for the night.

Probably not, I thought. Paid killers are usually pretty tough. He can’t track me in the dark, but he knows I’m heading west. He might continue along the trail under moonlight.

I laid back against my bedroll but could not sleep. I thought about my situation.

Three days ago, Claire announced our wedding plans, much to my surprise. Sure, her daddy owned most of the best cattle land in the territory, and marrying her promised a life of privilege and comfort, but that was not why I came west after college. Gold-rush fever had set in from reading all the stories about gold discovered at Sutter’s Mill in California. After selling all my possessions, I headed west to seek my fortune, until I met Claire.
Tired and hot, I had stopped to water my horse and bathe in a clear mountain stream. A rider approached at a full gallop. Claire reined her tall palomino to a dust-clouded stop. She was beautiful. Sitting straight-backed in the saddle, she demanded why I was trespassing on their ranch.

Her hard demeanor softened as she assessed me. Drips of water clung to my bare chest, and my hair must have been a mess, having already washed out the day’s travel grime, but she did not seem offended by my disheveled appearance.

An uncomfortable silence developed as she looked from my chest to my horse and back. I felt odd under her gaze.

Trying to break the tension, I said, “Thank God, I didn’t take off my pants to bathe.”

She smiled. “Nice roan. Saddle looks a bit decorative for a wrangler. You're no cowboy. Where are you from?”

She dismounted and approached with a noticeable air of superiority. Using a single finger, she traced between water droplets on my chest and abdomen. Lips parted and the tip of her wet finger touched her tongue. She smiled. No woman ever treated me like that before.

One thing led to another, and I ended up spending six months working the ranch for her father. Claire and I got real close, you know, in that special way. I thought it was just mutual enjoyment, until she surprised me by announcing “our” wedding plans.

Panic set in. I never discussed a long-term relationship with her. She became enraged when I told her so.

Loud neighing broke my thoughts. My horse reared up, pulling hard against her secure lead rope.

“Manley! He’s here,” I whispered to myself and rushed through the dark to settle my horse.

“Whoa, girl. It’s okay,” I said trying to calm her. It did not work.

She reared back, striking in the air with her forelegs. I ducked frantic hooves and reached to the base of the scrub brush to release the knot. A searing pain shot up my arm from my hand.

Rattlesnake!

What happens when your carefully crafted main character faces conflict? Is slow building tension enough? What if the slowly rising suspense suddenly explodes into a crisis?

The story above is a tiny part of a western that I am currently writing. I was happy with the slow building tension of the killer pursuing my MC, but I decided to introduce a crisis--the rattlesnake bite--to see what happens next. A wanton killer is tracking my MC fully intending to kill him. The woman, who once loved him, now hates him. And, he’s just been bitten by a rattlesnake.

Cool. I think that is sufficient tension to keep most readers entertained and turning pages.

If your story gets too predictable, or drones on, slowly building the main plot, spice it up by introducing your own version of the rattlesnake--an abrupt introduction of an unexpected twist. Remember, a good story is really a series of small stories linked by an overall plot. Make each one of those small stories exciting. “Rattlesnakes” can make that happen.

By the way, if you want to know what happens to my neophyte cowboy, you will have to buy the book!

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

“Boom shakalaka boom shakalaka” - Dictation Software

I bought the Dragon dictation software to see if I could increase my writing productivity. Hated it. I’d be dictating and then answer my wife’s question about what I’d like for dinner. Yep, my culinary choice spilled right into the manuscript page. Imagine what could happen during a romantic scene.

     Meg leaned away from him despite quivering with desire. “You know I love you, Randy. I’m not sure I’m ready.”
     "It’s up to you, sweetheart,” he said and thoughtfully stopped unbuttoning her blouse.
     Randy lifted her chin to look deep into her eyes. “I will feel the same about you in the morning regardless of--”
     She softly touched a finger to his lips silencing him. Long hair splayed across his pillow as she laid back in fevered anticipation. Her decision made, she surrendered to her body’s need.
     “Dammit, kids. Can't you hear I’m writing? Both of you go to your rooms—now!”
(That could sure screw up the moment for the reader.)

Dragon struggles with punctuation, too. You have to speak all the appropriate commas, quotation marks, periods, em dashes, etc. This gets awkward. Here's a sample dictation and the result:

Dictatation:   quotation mark Meg comma what did the pregnancy test say question mark end quote

Result:    “Meg, what did the pregnancy test say?”

See what I mean? It’s like speaking a strange language. Took me months to become comfortable talking that way. Stumbling speech patterns inhibited my creativity at first, but I stuck it out. Now, I can comfortably put 2000 words on "paper" in an hour. Revisions take as much time as ever, but I can knock out a chapter of new material every day with ease.


A headset comes with the kit. I feel like a spaceman.
"Starbase to Moon-crew one. Asteroid imapct in 10, 9, 8..."
One suggestion—I never used much of an outline before now. With Dragon, I found that a good outline helps me dictate better and keeps me from wandering in the story. I even dictate the outline!

Humor comes with the package. Dictation programs rely on word recognition, sometimes with unintended entertainment value. I dictated “boom shakalaka boom shakalaka” (from the Bill Murray movie Stripes) and Dragon gave me “chocolate chuck lockable.” So, if you make up words or use idioms, as is often done in sci-fi stories, it can get very entertaining.

(This blog was dictated in six minutes.)
Here it is in dictate-ease: parenthesis this blog was dictated in six minutes period parenthesis

Do I recommend dictation software to aspiring authors? Heck no. Y’all keep struggling to write one book every year or two . . . I don’t want competition! Hehehe...

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Two Pages of Terror (Strong starts to a story)

My literary agent, Marisa Corvisiero, offers a workshop on refining the first two pages of a story to make them compelling. Here is the link:

http://literarypowerhouse.com/events/its-in-the-details-first-two-page-critique-workshop/

Why take this workshop? It’s “only” two pages. How could this possibly help my story?

Consider my personal experience. I sent my manuscript to Marisa thinking it was ready for big time publishers. Beta readers raved about the story, and Marisa agreed with my beta readers that the story is compelling. She accepted me as a client. “Whew,” I thought. “I finally made it.”

Not long thereafter, I experienced Marisa’s mastery of literature in a surprising email. She said my writing reminded her of Dan Brown’s storytelling. Then, she mentioned that he uses shorter chapters to enhance tension, but that my book carried its conflict in 22 longer chapters. Would I consider revising?

That one simple question impacted not just this story, but everything I’ve written since. My beta readers include a highly educated English teacher, two other authors, several genre-specific fans of thrillers and a molecular biologist consultant. To a person, they felt the story was excellent. Nevertheless, Marisa’s question forced me to open my eyes to a possible improvement.

I searched my chapters for logical cliffhangers and quickly expanded the book to 78 chapters without changing ANY of the story, itself. I merely fed readers the same action in smaller, faster-evolving chunks.

My beta readers were astonished at the change. The story “moved” better, tension grew--well, it became more intense. Reader’s experienced a new level of immersion into the tale. I was amazed at the improvement. The story did not change a bit; just the framework from which it is told.

Back to this workshop by my talented and perceptive agent, Marisa Corvisiero. How can a workshop about the first two pages of a story make much difference?

Maybe I should rephrase the question. How can a strong first impression impact an agent or editor’s acquisition decision?

Ah ha! That makes things more clear, but the answer--first impressions--is not as obvious as it might seem. You see, first impressions MUST be followed by quality writing. Excellent writing skills generate those two critical early pages. But, what if a great start leads to a weak story? Readers feel betrayed.

Fortunately, the same skills learned to build a strong beginning can be applied throughout the entire manuscript. After all, every story is nothing more than a series of little stories running together. Marisa can teach those valuable skills. It might be the best $80 you ever spend as an aspiring author.

Sunday, June 17, 2012

repost - A Note to Dad

Hi Dad. Wherever you are, I hope you’re happy. I’m not sure if there is a heaven, but if there is, I know you’re helping somebody in need, like you did throughout your life.

Every Fathers Day, I get to wondering about the afterlife. What if Buddhists are right about reincarnation? I could see you coming back as a single daffodil, picked by a small child who runs to her mommy with her prize--you, bringing a moment of happiness to both child and parent. If Einstein is right, then you belong to the universe. I like to choose one star out of the night sky and say hello to you. Sure, I know it’s really just a ball of burning hydrogen, but it makes me feel good to think that your essence, your love and all those memories, still exist in that bright spot in the sky.

Miss you, Dad.
I didn’t always think of you with such admiration. Your leather belt scared the hell out of me as a child. Discipline was swift and simple. You taught me right from wrong. And, I hated it when you and mom argued. It made me feel insecure. Even when I left for Vietnam in my late teens, you tried to hug me, but I pushed you away in my youthful anger. Guess I was still too young to appreciate you for the lessons that molded a man from a boy.

Before my twentieth birthday, something extraordinary happened. You changed. Wisdom filled your voice when I called you from the USO in Vietnam to share my fears. You said I'd be okay. Do you remember that three AM phone call? You told me you had great confidence in me, as a man, and that you would stand by me no matter what happened in Nam. Your strength, and your confidence in me, carried me through some tough times. I found strength knowing that you respected and trusted me. Then, I realized, you didn’t change a bit. I did . . . thanks to you.

I tried to apologize when I got home, for my stupid behavior before I left for Nam. You rebuffed my effort, saying no regrets were called for. Turns out, you had similar angst when you were young, and it took you many years to grow up, too. You always knew the man I would become, because I am just like you. You saw my potential, instead of my failings, and you made me the man I am today.

Thanks, Dad.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Catching Squirrels (Getting published)

An old almond tree in my backyard feeds a chubby little gray squirrel who acts like he owns it. One day, Zack-the-epileptic-Dachshund, barked loud and long at the nut-gatherer in the tree above. As long as I can hear barking, I don’t worry, but things suddenly got quiet, so I peeked out back. Zack stood beneath a tree limb, shaking his head violently. On the lowest branch right above him, the puffed-up squirrel twittered angrily. You should know that Zack HATES water. The squirrel was pissing on him with amazing accuracy--right on my dog’s head.

Every time the squirrel runs along the top of our fence, Zack chases him the full length of the yard, barking fiercely and leaping high . . . well, as high as a miniature Dachshund can get off the ground.

I wondered, “What would he do with that squirrel if he ever caught it?”

Then, it dawned on me. I have a similar dilemma about writing. I chased the Holy Grail and I caught her. After signing a representation contract with a well-known literary agent, I shouted, “Eureka! I’m almost published.”

To my surprise, the conquered squirrel turned out, instead, to be the master. It started with the agent’s manuscript review. She liked it very much but offered a few suggestions for me to consider. I struggled with her recommendations for a grueling three seconds, then promptly began writing the changes. Things were perfect when I sent it back to her, or so I thought.

I had caught the squirrel, but, much like Zack would probably behave, I didn’t know what to do with it. What happens when your dream suddenly becomes reality? Your manuscript, synopsis and blurb are actually going to be presented to decision makers at legacy publishing houses. The classic life conundrum hit me like a ton of bricks. Doubt roared in. Is my author platform up to scrutiny? Is it too late to edit my story one more time? Should I shave off my beard? I found myself in a quandary about what to do next. Instincts failed me. Prior experience did not exist.

Good fortune seems to strike me on the head when I least expect it, and I often do not feel I deserve it. My literary agent, Marisa Corvisiero, gathered me up like some kind of lost child and gently, confidently, guided me into this frightening world of “Holy crap, what do I do now?” She gave me suggestions and waited patiently as I polished my story. She helped formulate my platform. She and her assistant, Stacey Donaghy, crafted a pitch package and began selling my work to mainstream publishers. Last I heard, one of the biggest publishers in the industry is actually reading the whole manuscript. There is a chance I could join some of my favorite authors on a highly recognized label.

I did it, caught the freaking squirrel! I’m down to the last step in the process and hope to make that final cut. Having made it this far, I know my writing satisfied some nebulous industry standard. If I actually sign a major publishing contract out of this long process, it will signal the beginning of the next chapter in my life. It’s that big of a deal for me. And, having survived this test, I know I can do it again. I hope all of you get to experience the thrill of catching your squirrels!

Thursday, May 31, 2012

Foreplay for Writers -or- Are Prologues Disasters in Disguise?

Everybody has read prologues. Tom Clancy loves them. Stephen King seems to run hot and cold on them. Experienced authors use them, but what about you? Aspiring authors cannot play by the same rules that apply to the big names. Are prologues, in the hands of neophyte writers, viewed fairly or as much-abused writer crutches that can destroy your publishing hopes?

The answer might surprise you, because it has little to do with the impact of the prologue on the story.

Hundreds of query letters arrive every week for literary agents. Imagine getting 40 query letters a day--over 10,000 requests per year. Thousands of quick decisions must be made every day by agents, or more likely, their subordinates. How do they narrow down this daunting influx of requests to a handful of new authors to represent?

Think about the demand on their time. Out of those 10,000 queries, less than 500 manuscripts get requested. Then, after scrutiny of those manuscripts, a lucky few (maybe 50) first-time authors receive contracts for representation. Agents already have a collection of established authors to represent, so there’s little room for newbies. If those aren’t slim enough odds, agents do not place 100% of the manuscripts they try to sell. Agents are probably doing great if they place 50% of the neophyte author’s stories. That means 25 first-time authors actually see their work survive the full cycle and make it to bookstore shelves. From query letter to publication, success is one-quarter of one-percent probability.

The note says, "Rejected:  back story in prologue."

I know what you’re thinking, “What does this have to do with prologues?”

Key players in publishing--acquisition editors and literary agents—mention submission generalities as guides for newbie-authors. Here are some common bits of advice I have read for first-time authors:

  • Full-length, commercial fiction should be between 80,000 and 120,000 words.
  • Follow manuscript formatting guidelines, exactly.
  • Avoid mixing genres.
  • Make sure your query only goes to agents representing your genre.
  • Writers need a platform when starting the query process.
  • Prologues often reflect weak writing. Avoid them.

Agents have a daunting task in cutting down a blizzard of queries to a coveted few representation contracts. Thousands of submissions get the ax using basic measures; weak query letter, poorly written synopsis, improper genre, failure to include all submission requirements, etc. The next step is where that prologue could kill your hopes. After easy cuts, staff readers still need a lot more rejections, so they begin looking for ANY reason to reject a manuscript; SPAG problems, weak hook, confusing character development, poor plot introduction, general tone and voice of the author. These can often be determined in less than ten pages and result in quick rejections.

What happens if your story starts with a prologue? Ooops . . . you touched one of the “third rails” of many editors and agents. Will they reject your golden words just because the story begins with a prologue? Some might. More likely, they will read on with more skepticism expecting the prologue to be a crutch for weak story telling. If your first ten pages (including that prologue) read great, then they must face the reality that a lot of acquisition editors will also be wary of a beginning writer who needs a prologue to get the story off the ground. It’s a harder sell.

Let’s say your magnificent manuscript survives to the final cut. The senior literary agent must choose between your story and an equally well-written tale that will be easier to sell because it does not include a prologue. Who gets the nod? More importantly, if you knew your brilliance survived to this point, and the difference was the prologue, would you like a chance to remove the introductory words and find a way to incorporate them into the actual story?

I’ve read dozens of prologues, many by big name, big dollar authors, but I’ve only read half a dozen enjoyable prologues. In most cases, they bore me or annoy me. Who knows? Maybe the acquisition editors are onto something. The purpose of this blog is to give you that second chance now--before you need it!

Friday, May 11, 2012

Donkey in the Derby – The Great Self-publishing Debate

Would you enter a Clydesdale in the Kentucky Derby? Why not? It’s just a bigger horse. How about a mule?


Clydesdales and mules are all in the horse family, but they fill very different niches. Have you seen the logo for Twenty Mule Team Borax? Borax is mined in Death Valley California, and, in the distant past, miners hooked up teams of twenty mules to pull heavy wagonloads of borax from quarries to processing plants. Why not harness twenty thoroughbreds to pull that wagon? I'll tell you why . . . they could not stand the heat or work load. This reality of specialization exists in the publishing business, too. Publishing and self-publishing are different “horses” for different tasks.

"Giddy-up, mule. They're gittin away!"

Not long ago, aspiring authors polished their writing to a fare-thee-well, slaved over query letter wording, and spent over $100 in mailing costs (that included a stamped, self-addressed reply envelope for that inevitable rejection note). Waiting for responses took months, occasionally even years, until the hopeful writer finally got that coveted request for a full manuscript. Then, another agonizing wait lasted months and usually ended with a “personal” form-letter saying, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

Around 2008, the internet publishing began. Mainstream publishers initially blacklisted “self-published” authors and touted the superiority of writers who survived their stringent endurance test and editing process. Despite this, the internet book sales exploded as dozens of small internet-only digital book publishers sprang up overnight. The traditional industry droned on about low standards and their threat that if a writer chose self-publishing, that person’s writing career was over.

I admit that I became one of the skeptics about the traditional publisher hysteria. As a thirty-five year self-employed entrepreneur, I decided to publish my own book and keep all the profits for myself. I did it--started the American Writers Publishing Company from scratch. Bought all the software, set up marketing contracts with Barnes and Noble, bought a book of ISBN numbers, contracted with a printer/book binder and hired a brilliant young graphic art designer in Denmark to produce my graphics. Then, I published my first book.

Cover art...SPACE CHRONICLES: The Last Human War

What a thrill that was! While the debate about self-publishing versus traditional publishing raged on, I was out there selling my story. It cost me about $4 to “build” a book. I thought I was going to get rich because the book, priced at $12.99, left me a lot of room for profit. My website offered a special price of $10, but I still expected to earn around $6 per book of profit on the discounted books.

What happened?

I sold a lot of books. I built a small fan base, and thrived on all the wonderful complements for my story. BUT, and here’s the important message, I did NOT make a lot of money. I discovered that chain bookstores take 45% of the face price for their cut. Wholesale distributors snip off another 10%, leaving me with a whopping $1.85 per book of net revenue. Net? Not quite. I also discovered that books are heavy. Even with discounted postage using USPS Media Mail rates or UPS, my “profit” dropped to less than $1 per book.



At this point, I realized I had one major advantage for all the “cuts” that everyone else took on my book—I had national distribution. “Whoopee,” I thought. “With ninety-six cents of profit per book, I can make almost $100,000 a year by selling 100,000 copies each year.” Yep, I was flying high on Pan-Fantasy Airlines. I rushed into my nearest Barnes and Noble to “see” my book among the other glossy offerings. It was not there. I checked several other B&N stores. Nada! It took calls to twelve stores before I found a copy on a shelf.

Of course, I made the two hour drive to that store, just to see how my book looked among the competition. By the way, the industry refers to all the books lining shelves in bookstores as “wallpaper,” and yes, it’s a derogatory term. There it was, The Last Human War, carefully camouflaged among dozens of equally glitzy bindings with my expensive cover art hidden from viewer eyes. I had bought a book on guerilla book-marketing, so I followed its overpriced advice and quietly moved my book onto a nearby shelf where all the book covers were facing browsers. The shelf, labeled “New Releases,” featured multiple copies by big name writers--and my one little book.

I managed to sell out most of my first printing, no thanks to the brick’n mortar stores. They were a waist of time and money. Books sold through private book signings, club visits, word of mouth, and website sales, all producing profits of around $4 per book. Would I recommend self-publishing? Absolutely. Lessons learned exceed anything I ever got in college or business classes. Those experiences made me a better writer, a better salesman and infinitely more patient with the publishing industry.

That said, I am tired of the ridiculous debate raging in recent years about self-publishing versus traditional publishing. It's a silly argument. There is a bona fide place for both, and each offers different benefits and weaknesses.

Just as you would not enter a mule in the Kentucky Derby, nor would you attempt to haul thousands of pounds of chemicals through 110 degree desert heat using thoroughbred horses. Each member of the horse family has a valuable niche. The same goes for publishing.


The internet threatened to end the reign of bookstores and legacy publishers as the sole interface between writers and readers. Soon, a proliferation of e-book readers like Kindle and Nook hammered the nail in the coffin, making dire predictions come true. Self-publishing options and direct-submission e-book publishers generated a whole new distribution system and countless outlets for author creations. Some quality writers who might never have had the chance to develop under the old system are now happily building fans, one book at a time. A few achieved extraordinary sales creating an inflated standard for what the average writer might expect.

What about the oft-ignored side of e-publishing? Some terrible publishing contracts are out there. False promises or inflated expectations seduce many hopeful writers. Incompetent editing is a real risk. Ineffective online promotions and overpriced POD books kill sales. Ultimately, the e-book industry’s inconsistent standards are beginning to force readers to be more careful, because not all small publishers or self-annointed authors measure up. Fortunately, the public is learning. Good quality small publishers, and strong writers, come to the top while the rest fade away.

Traditional publishers may be slow, but they are not stupid. They now fully embrace the electronic book market. Unlike most self-publishing companies and direct submission small publishers, selection of new authors by legacy publishers remains a vigorous test of stamina and writing standards. Whether a book comes out in dead-tree format or a collection of pixels on Kindle, books released by stalwart companies remain consistent in quality and promise. In addition, authors who successfully navigate the frustrating path to legacy publication gain credibility from the difficult accomplishment and recognition from important people who influence book buyers on a large scale—critics, reviewers, buyers for library systems, and other centers of influence.

What does all this tell us about the self-publishing versus traditional publishing debate?

1) Most claims offered in this foolish waste-of-words debate reflect a single, narrow piece of the publishing puzzle.

2) Can an author earn more money per book sold by self-publishing? Maybe. It depends on a bunch of factors such as distribution costs for physical books as mentioned above. Electronic book sales may favor self-publishing (per download), but greater volume of sales created by affiliation with a mainstream publisher may outperform the profit-per-book advantage in the long run.

3) Does a traditionally published author have better national exposure? Maybe. It depends on whether you’re talking about bookstore presence or internet offerings, or both.

4) What's in it for the reader? Which publishing method provides readers with the better chance of finding a quality story? Traditional publishers do a lot of screening on behalf of readers through their rigorous selection process and professional editing. On the other hand, readers who have taken the time to identify the good quality, small publishers can trust the goods they offer. This is especially true with boutique publishers that specialize in a genre and protect their reputation by being selective about authors.

So, before deciding whether to self-publish or try the traditional route, you must know yourself. What do you want to accomplish as an author? Big houses do things for authors that small houses cannot do. Vice versa is EQUALLY true. The final choice depends on what your goals are as a writer.

Remember, you can whip a mule until hell freezes over, but it ain’t gonna win the Kentucky Derby. Make sure you pick the right “horse” for the job that you want done.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Killing Your Genius with Big Words (Pace)

Ernest Hemingway gained critical acclaim by crafting wonderful stories with lifelike characters by using common language. He avoided flowery vocabulary that might impress English professors or earn admiration from society's gentile crowd. Instead, he opted for simple, clear words--basic language that got the job done. For that reason, ordinary people enjoyed his characters and plots.

Reference books . . . for pleasure reading?

Is there a modern lesson in Hemingway's approach to writing? JK Rowling, Tom Clancy, and that writer who attracts enormous criticism from literary critics, Stephenie Meyer of Twilight fame . . . they all became successful using words average people understand. Readers inject themselves into stories, and if undistracted by dictionary visits, they experience the full impact of the writing. Shakespeare did the same thing. Sure, his plays sound odd by today's American English standards, but, back in his era, commoners raved about his pithy themes and every-day dialog.

Don't we writers all want the same thing? We hope our stories entertain readers, and maybe, just maybe, they'll become fans of both our stories and our writing styles. How can our word choices help this reader-to-fan metamorphosis?

Writers actually pick an audience when they select words. If your intended readers are college-educated professionals who demand literary eloquence, then, by all means, dust off the thesaurus and engage in the synonym dance. But, if the planned-for reader is a typical person, someone who works all week and wants a little escapism during their cherished weekends, then the author's writing should match readers' needs. We should write to the audience, not to our English professor!

In my personal experience, even highly educated people like doctors and lawyers want to relax when they pick up a book for pleasure reading. They're not much interested in passing the GRE exam's writing section . . . yet again. If a simple word gets the job done, then why complicate things with a five-syllable alternative? Sure, there are times when a word like anthropomorphism must be chosen for just the right meaning, but more often than not, a simpler word will be effective and easier to read. Pace in a story is a carefully constructed flow that carries a reader from one important scene to next. Correct pace depends on ease of reading.

Can it be overdone; perhaps too simplistic? Certainly. And, that's a fine line writers must walk. The old acronym, K.I.S.S. (Keep It Simple, Stupid), works in fishing, building a porch, assembling a child's bike and most any other task in life. It's no different for writing.

Don't kill your genius by forcing readers to keep a dictionary close by. Awesome mental images and dynamic dialog wilt under interruptions by visits to a thesaurus. Great stories rely on pace, or more accurately, carefully planned variances in pace, to unfold their plots. They engage a reader's imagination and run effectively as long as there are no distractions. Avoid the curse of big-word-itis, and let your story's pace flow naturally. If it was good enough for Hemingway...you get the rest.

Now, where did I put my thesaurus? I need to edit this post. lol.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Death of a Salesman – Me!

The famous play by Arthur Miller, Death of a Salesman, always confounded me. I don’t understand the entertainment value in watching a tormented man eventually commit suicide? Yet, to some extent, I have walked a few miles in the main character’s shoes. I understand him. For a while, I was Willy.

My youthful dreams included subatomic particle research in nuclear physics and an ambitious plan to solve Einstein’s enduring problems with his beloved Unified Field Theory. Despite such high aspirations, I ended up a lowly insurance salesman--a Willy. It doesn’t matter how it happened, it just did. Intellectual failure reminded me of that Broadway play. I feared becoming that main character. Fortunately, fate stepped in.



What changed me?

Fishing. Tournament bass fishing became an obsession. I loved competition and I enjoyed my fellow anglers. Bass fishing saved me when it provided that friendly port in the proverbial storm called the insurance business. And, it wasn't just fishing. An unexpected side gig grew in the form of writing fishing articles for Inside Line magazine. Life became enjoyable. I found peace of mind. Then, the happiness ended abruptly. Vertigo struck so strongly that I could not even walk. Hope for a meaningful life ended. I was becoming Willy, trapped in the never ending negativity of sales.

Looking back on that first vertigo attack, I now realize it was one of the best career changers that ever happened to me. Strange how life closes one path but reveals another in the process.

During those years of competitive fishing, I had filled hundreds of boring hours in motel rooms with writing. Initially, I wrote fishing articles, but I quickly expanded into novels that ended up stuffed in file drawers when I got home. Ironically, it took a violent seizure from vertigo to open my eyes. Life intended me to be a writer, not a physicist, or pro bass fisherman, and certainly not an insurance broker . . . a writer.

Manuscripts, manuscripts, manuscripts...where do I start today?

In 2008, my science fiction book, Space Chronicles: The Last Human War, became a reality. I now have multiple manuscripts in process and one currently being sold by my New York literary agent, Marisa Corvisiero. I finally know what it means to find one’s calling in life. It’s thrilling to wake up each morning and be excited about which novel I will tackle this day.

The monotonous hell of sales will soon die, yes, by my own hand. But, unlike Willy in Death of a Salesman, I choose story-telling as the method of extinction for the salesman in me. I sincerely hope anyone reading this blog will enjoy an epiphany such as I did. You’ll know instantly when it happens; when you find your calling. And, if it turns out to be writing, then I hope to be one of your best fans. Good writing, my friend.

Monday, April 2, 2012

Growing Potatoes – The “Eyes” Have It!

(How to salvage unfinished stories.)

I remember when I was a kid and mom asked me to get some potatoes out for dinner. One of them had roots all over it. I asked her if it was any good. She snapped the roots off and assured me the spud was perfectly fine to eat. She explained that each potato has many “eyes,” and, if an eye was planted, it will grow another potato plant, producing more potatoes on its roots.

Does that sound like a challenge to you? It did to an eleven year old boy.

That night, I liberated a couple potatoes from mom’s supply and hid them under my bed. I checked every day and soon they had whitish roots hanging off each spud. Following mom’s theory, I cut the potatoes into small pieces with a root centered in each section. I planted those sprouts in a plot of ground at the back of our yard, and they grew into bushy potato plants--not at all attractive plants, but healthy, nevertheless.

Every book contains the seeds for other stories.

Time passed. I got a bit too excited and ruined the first crop by digging them up too soon. Lesson learned. A month later, I returned mom’s stolen potatoes several times over from my secret garden. It was amazing! A couple potatoes generated ten times that amount in only a few months. Mom admitted wondering where her potatoes had gone, but was happy to have the fresh supply.

Writing is a lot like planting potatoes. Each story may contain a bunch of “eyes,” that when nurtured, will grow into many more stories. It seems like written ideas are self-generating, much like the potato. The more you write, the more you discover to write about.

Perhaps the faithful old advice, “never stop writing,” works well because of the potato phenomenon. Every story, even an incomplete wannabe story, carries its own set of potato-eyes, each capable of spinning off another yarn, if planted in fertile literary soil and given basic rhetorical weeding. It’s an amazing truth about writing.

Next time you find yourself struggling for a new storyline, look into your literary potato-bin for the most gnarly looking, root-encrusted unfinished story. Examine it for “eyes” and shoots. Hidden storylines are right there inside that previous work. While it may have fizzled out as a finished product, many possible storylines could still exist in that unfinished work. Those stories wait like hopeful orphans, begging to be discovered and released into literary existence.

So, don’t ever toss out an abandoned storyline. Instead, toss it under your literary sink for a few months. Let it ripen. Then, when you ultimately bring it into the light again, you may see fresh new possibilities to be exploited and brought to life. Good writing!