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Character, to Thine Own Self be True

28 Monday Aug 2017

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Confession time: I’m a big nerd

No, it’s not true.

I know, I know, it’s hard to believe, but this cool writer persona is nothing but a façade.

I’m bringing this up because what I want to talk about comes through one of my hobbies, roleplaying games. I was hooked on roleplaying games in high school with Advanced Dungeons and Dragons second edition, and I continue to game today (I’ve recently fell in love with Fate Core). It might come to no surprise to you that I’m, like 98% of the time, the Game Master of these games (the one who makes the story the players play in). As a result, I’m the one that knows/understands all the rules and I’m the one that helps everyone make their characters (the personas/people they’re going to be in the game).

It’s the character creation aspect of gaming that I want to talk about today. (This might sound like an intro to roleplaying games, but stick with it and I’ll bring it back around to writing. Promise.) So, creating a character can be as serious or as whimsical as you’d like it to be. For instance, in the current game I’m running, one of my friends got the idea to be an eighties’ business man that got turned into a vampire, but is inexplicably stuck in eighties. Another one of my friends ended up being a mermaid stripper. As you can see, things can get pretty out there if you let them.

What’s this got to do with writing? You might be saying. Give me a minute, I haven’t got there quite yet.

That’s two of my friends (the vampire and the mermaid), but I have to talk to you about my third friend (for privacy sake we’ll call him Dudley). Dudley came in, all serious like, and had a pretty solid idea for his character, came up with a good backstory for him, but as play began quickly became frustrated with things. Why wasn’t his character working the way he thought it should? Why was he having such a hard time doing what he wanted? His character is awesome, why is everything so difficult?

Let’s jump back to my vampire and mermaid friends. When we all sat down to make characters, my two friends were instantly struck with the ideas for a vampire and a mermaid. They were equally struck with the ideas that the vampire should be mentally stuck in the time period he loved the best—the eighties—and that the mermaid was fascinated by humans and ashamed of her mermaid heritage. Everyone thought this was funny, or a good reason to have a mermaid on land, and so they went with the ideas. As the game progressed they jumped into their characters’ traits and fun was had by all.

Now let’s talk about Dudley. Dudley made a character backstory that came out to make him a doofus. First, he learned about the magical in the world by being attacked by a magical being. Then he gave himself an “evil imaginary self,” which is a dual personality disorder (indicating that the trauma of the attack was too much for his weak mind to bear). Then it turns out that because he survived the initial attack by the magical thing, the magical thing has taken a liking to him and keeps coming back to play with him. On top of that, the vampire character has taken advantage of him twice in the backstory, one time causing a magical backlash onto Dudley’s character giving him a “false aura of power.”

All this adds up to, doofus.

However, as that fateful first gaming session commenced, and I, as an attentive and mischievous game master, began poking at Dudley’s character he got increasingly frustrated. Again, his character is awesome, why is everything so hard. Needless to say, Dudley went home a bit miffed about the whole thing (not the intended outcome of playing a game with your friends).

Everything’s okay now. We talked about his character, I told him my take on things, and he’d already thought about it and agreed that he should embrace the doofiness of his character. (To be fair, I did offer to help him make a new badass character).

Yeah, whatever. This still isn’t about writing.

Okay, okay. I promised to bring it back to writing, and we’re here now.

What happened with Dudley and his roleplaying character is a common problem that writers have. They have a cool character concept, but when it comes to putting the character on paper they struggle. This isn’t so much a ‘how do they fit into the story’ in a grand sense, but in a much smaller sense. In a scene by scene sense, a ‘why is this character in this scene’ sense. It’s a meshing of your concept for the character concept and their role in the story.

To bring Dudley’s character back up: His concept for the character was a badass wizard, when the execution of his character creation made him the comic relief of the group.

It is very important for you, as a writer, to line up character concepts with character motivation and character roles in your story. If you don’t it can be a shoe horning effort to find a place for your character in your story.

Alright, let me give you a literary example of what I’m talking about, just so you don’t think I’m talking out my ass. What am I going to use to prove this? Twilight by Stephanie Meyer.

Stop the eye rolling! I can hear you rolling your eyes, you know. The Internet is a magical place, it allows me to do that.

Are you done?

I’ll wait.

Okay. Bear with me, and I’ll walk you through the steps here.

So, we’re going to be comparing Twilight to Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

Let’s get the perfunctory disclaimers out of the way first. I love Dracula, the movie with Gary Oldman and Wynona Ryder. If you haven’t seen it and you like vampire movies I highly recommend it. I also acknowledge that Bram Stoker’s work is a classic and pivotal to the Gothic tradition. This is not me telling you that it’s not an important part of literature, or that you shouldn’t like it. This is me holding it up as an example of shoe horning.

So, we’re going to comparing Twilight to Bram Stoker’s Dracula. We’re doing this because they are basically the same story: immortal creature of darkness finds his one true love and struggles to be with her because of his dark, immortal nature. They also have the same character concept in Edward and Dracula, immortal, strong, fast, predatory.

What we’re going to do is start with a scene and walk backwards through the story to find how the character fits into the story.

Let’s start with Dracula first. Remember: Dracula=immortal creature of darkness.

Here’s the scene: Dracula has found Mina in London and has just bitten her to turn her into an immortal creature of darkness to they can be immortal creatures of darkness together. Bwahahahahaha!

So…we know Mina is in London because she lives there. Dracula, though, why’s he there? Better yet, how’d he find Mina in London, I hear it’s a fairly large city and fairly congested. And Dracula has been chilling in Transylvania for the past six, seven, eight centuries. Well, it helps that, 1) one of the people from London, like the second person, Dracula knows is insane, and just so happens to be in an insane asylum run by the doctor, that’s courting one of Mina’s friends, who, coincidently, Dracula has fed upon and turned into a vampire earlier in the book. Because London only has about fifteen people in it, according to Bram Stoker’s viewpoint. Oh, and 2) the other person Dracula knows in London is a reality lawyer who just so happens to be Mina’s fiancé and had a picture with him so Dracula could see it. Going back to the first question, why is Dracula in London? Why, diversification of course. I’m immortal, and the sole ruler of an entire country, with all of Europe at my fingertips, but I want to own half a dozen rundown houses in London.

Have you spotted the shoe horning yet? It would seem Bram Stoker had a great character concept, immortal creature of darkness, was once a man who lost the love of his life, and damned himself to find her. And he does find her! I just feel like it took a lot of shoe horning him into the story Mr. Stoker wanted.

Now let’s look at Twilight. Remember: Edward=immortal creature of darkness.

Here’s the scene: A car has just lost control in a high school parking lot. Edward jumps between Bella, the love of his life now, and the truck, stopping it with his immortal creature of darkness strength.

So…why is Edward there? Edward, is in Forks because it has horrendous cloud cover that allows him and his family of vampires to walk around in the day (quiet you! I know the reason why and we’re not here to talk about that!). Yes, okay, but why is Edward in high school, being that he’s 150 years old? Well, even though he’s 150 years old, he still looks seventeen, in order to keep up appearances and lead semi-normal lives, he and his “siblings” attend high school. They’re still the creepy kids in the school, but it’s better than being the creepy kids that live in that house waaay out in woods and never come into town except when they want to show off how cool they are.

See how easily Edward fits into the scene? There’s no magical coincidences about Edward knowing half of Bella’s family before he even meets her.

Character concept meets character role seamlessly. Say what you will about the actual writing or the story, but Mrs. Meyer’s planning of the story is spot on.

So, if you’re having trouble finding a reason your character is in a scene or the story at all, maybe you re-evaluate the concept you have of the character and the role they’re playing in the story.

Until next time: Be yourself, be well. Write yourself, write well.

PS: this is the last update before I post A Dinner for Crows. It’s finished. Yay! I just need to edit it a bit and then I’ll be putting it up. I know it’s been a long time coming. It’s almost as if it’s hard to write a novel that’s any good.

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The One With All the Updates

24 Wednesday May 2017

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Hey All!

Just thought I’d drop a line on what’s happening with everything.

So I’m currently working on three projects. The first is A Dinner for Crows, the story I was posting for National Novel Writing Month. Yes, I’m still working on it!! Things got a bit hectic here, and writing became a back burner thing for a couple (few) weeks, but things have been ironed out, and I’m back in the swing of things. I’m hoping to be done with Crows by the end of June. When it’s done I’ll be putting it up on the website for everyone’s enjoyment. 😀

The second project is actually an older project I recently found while rummaging around my computer. It’s called Phallacy: A Little Shop of Porn Mystery. I originally wrote the story to be a graphic novel. I met a very talented artist when I was going to conventions named AJ Sabino–you can find a link to his artist page on the sidebar–and his brother Rocko. I talked a lot to the two of them at my first convention. I just couldn’t get over their names; saying they sounded like an adult version of the Hardy Boys. With that statement, my mind went off on its own and came back with this story. I talked to AJ about him illustrating it, but life happens (on both our ends), and I ended up forgetting all about it. Well, I recently found it. Talked to AJ, asking if he minded if I just published it on my own as a story, and he said he’s cool with it. So, Phallacy should show up (I’m hoping) by the end of May or beginning of June. It’ll be up on Amazon, and due to the mature themes, it’ll probably be a bit more than my other novellas up there (to discourage all the youngsters reading my stuff). True to its name, it is a mystery story, but I was watching a lot of Venture Bros. at the time so all the humor is influenced by that.

The third thing I’m working on is a novel in short stories. Inspired by the world of Derek Landy’s Skulduggery Pleasant, I’ve been writing about a sorcerer by the name of Troublesome Knock. Troublesome Knock is the character’s taken name. This follows the rules of magic that state everyone has three names: 1) your True Name (which no one knows, not even you); 2) your Given Name (the name your parents give you when you’re born), if people know your Given Name they can control you, and you have no defense against their magic; 3) your Taken Name (by taking a name, you seal your Given Name, thus cancelling the power people have over you, unless they learn your True Name). So, the novel, which is four novellas following the same overall arc, follows Troublesome Knock who’s quit the magical world, but slowly gets pulled back into it. I’m having a lot of fun writing it. One of the things I’ve done, is have everyone’s magic manifest differently, so while each person can do the same spell the magic looks different. Troublesome’s magic manifests as shadows. Other manifestations in the stories include wind, light, smoke, and butterflies. I’m in the middle of editing the third story. I have extensive notes on the fourth. And when it’s all finished, I’m going to try throwing it in the ring of publishing. If someone picks it up, then who knows when it’ll see the light of day. If enough people pass on it (or I get frustrated with all the rejection), of course I’ll put it up on Amazon. In that case, it’d be next summer or fall for its release.

For those of you who are fans of Amsterdam and the Murder Twins, Reiner Rotterdam, and my Zodiac story, I haven’t forgotten about them. I’m hoping once I get the current projects in the finishing stages I can turn my attention back to those stories.

So that’s where I’m at right now. The writing is keeping me busy. Just the way I like it.

Until next time: Be yourself, be well. Write yourself, write well.

Oh, What A Wonderful Corner I’ve Written Myself Into

18 Tuesday Oct 2016

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Hey, all!

So, you’ve written yourself into a corner. There are three things (well, four, but I don’t think living in the corner for the rest of your characters’ lives is a real option) for you to do. The first involves (what I’m going to call) “going up the wall.” The second is the Uncle Karl Fix (-ish). The last is rolling with it.

Let’s go over “going up the wall.” I want to state here and now that “going up the wall” is the least preferred of the methods of getting yourself out of the corner (by me anyway, others can/will/should have their own opinions). What I mean by “going up the wall” is this: essentially you break the rules of the story, the rules you established for the world you’re writing in. I, personally, don’t like this because it can feel like you’re pulling one over on your readers. You’ve taken the time to make believable characters, to get them to like the characters. You’ve put them into a world of wonder that they’ve gone into willingly. They trust you, and you pull the rug out from under them by having something they thought was impossible happen. Now they don’t know what to think. They’re entire world has been turned on its head. It’s the easiest way to get yourself out of a corner, but it costs you more in the long run (I think).

DISCLAIMER: Breaking the rules of your world can be done, and has been done, in a controlled and planned manner to add tension to your story. What I’m talking about here is breaking the rules to fix something—essentially it’s like telling someone they were never able to walk, because they’ve fallen and broken their leg.

The second method is the Uncle Karl Fix. Those of you who are long time readers know what that is. It’s a lot to explain, so if you’re new you should probably go read the two other blogposts about it. Now the Uncle Karl Fix is waaaaay more work than “going up the wall.” It means looking at your whole story again (seriously, go read the other two posts). In the long run, though, I think this is a much better approach. The Uncle Karl Fix lets you keep the integrity of the story, of the characters, and as a writer. And, let’s be honest, if the story didn’t need an Uncle Karl Fix, then you probably (PROBABLY) wouldn’t be in a corner right now.

The third method: rolling with it. This solution might not be as much work as the Uncle Karl Fix, but it can be more exciting. Think of rolling with it as knocking down the wall to get out the corner, or to be more precise, writing your way out of the corner. Basically, you keep writing until what put you in the corner becomes true, the corner becomes a door.

As always, here’s an example from my writing group. So, this colleague of mine wrote a story with characters with magic powers. One of those characters had precognition—they could see the future. The character was introduced to the story by saving the main character from an attack that hadn’t happened yet. Which I thought was cool. Eventually, though, relying on the character’s precognition, they make a decision and get ambushed. At this point the story, thus far, ended, the colleague was stuck. I never saw the story again; though the writer brought other stories to be workshopped, and since then we’ve both left the writers’ group. So I don’t know how she reconciled the ambush with the rest of the story.

For some fun let’s look at how using each method of getting out of the corner can resolve this.

Going up the wall: The most obvious “going up the wall” is that the ambushers found a way of blocking the precognition, or of sending the character a false vision. This isn’t so much a breaking of the rules, but it does bend them quite a bit. It can raise questions like: if the bad guys—who they’ve been fighting for years—can block the precognition of the good guys why don’t they do that all the time? What good is precognition then? Why is that character even there? Of course, you can keep writing, adding scenes to explain this, but it can interrupt the story (in the case of this story, it was pretty time sensitive, end of the world type stuff). It can cause more problems than it solved.

The Uncle Karl Fix: Okay, so you’ve looked back at the story, you’ve looked at what the character has accomplished in the story. Here are a few ways to Uncle Karl this: 1) the character sends them a message about the attack, but is a coward and is in hiding so they aren’t with them to make the decision that puts them in the ambush’s path. It’s quick and we lose the character for the rest of the story, but it accomplishes the exact same thing without making the problem later on. 2) Have one of the existing characters get the vision, then stay behind to ensure the main character’s escape. This is a classic, and would put more tension and emotion into the story. 3) Don’t have the character with precognition. This does two things, one it gets rid of the character, and two the story gets a massive battle scene (because no one warned them it was coming). This was the path I advocated in group. I’m sure there are other Uncle Karl Fixes, but these are the ones that come to mind.

Rolling with it (writing until the corner becomes a door): There are a few ways to write yourself out of this particular corner. 1) Of course the precog character saw the ambush, but they had to get ambushed for the next part to happen, and the “next part” is what’s important. 2) The precog character didn’t see the ambush because they saw something that happened after the ambush (like the first one, but slightly different. The first solution makes the person less sympathetic, but more guide/one-with-everything-y. While the second one keeps the character sympathetic but makes the power useful but unpredictable/unreliable.) 3) Of course the precog character saw the ambush, but they’re a traitor. Oh no! World rocked! But, in this case, in a good way. This third choice is another one I advocated for in group.

As you can see, writing yourself into a corner isn’t a death sentence for a story. There are multiple ways to make a corner into something else. You just have to be willing to do the work, and look at your story from different angles.

SECONDARY DISCLAIMER: I would like to mention that this specific example had multiple ways of “rolling with it.” Not all corner problems will be able to be written out of. Some—I’m going to go with most—you will either have to “go up the wall” , or do an Uncle Karl Fix.

Until next time: remember that a corner is only a corner if you stay there, and: Be you, be well. Write you, write well.

So Little to do and so Much Time to do it in…Wait…Reverse That

12 Monday Sep 2016

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Alright, so we live in a golden age. We have access to media that makes sure we are never bored. We have movies, television (more television than anyone is watching), video games, we have movies about video games, we have “let’s plays” where we can watch people play video games (a guilty pleasure of mine), we have computers and phones where can watch T.V., play video games, or watch video of people playing video games, we have social media, reality television, podcasts…

…

…

…wipes drool from face…

Okay, where was I? Yeah, so we’ve got a lot, A LOT, of things to keep us occupied. Lots of things to get our attention, distract us. Lots of things to be a fan of, to enjoy and love. At times I think we have too many things to find, and fall in love with, and share with our friends so they can love it too, and then we can love it together.

Here’s what I’m trying to get at, don’t let all the things overwhelm you.

A couple years ago, I was watching a show—I forget what it was now—and I just stopped in the middle of the episode, and never went back to it. In fact, I completely stopped watching several shows that I’d been obsessed with at the time.

Why would I do that, you may be asking yourself.

Well, for one, it was just too much. I was keeping track of…let’s call it…an embarrassing amount of shows. My brain felt heavy keeping all the storylines and characters straight. The second reason was it was keeping me from writing.

There’s only so much time in the day, in a week, in a month. What with kids, jobs, and sustaining human contact, and then loving things like shows, and games, and podcasts, everything eats away at that time. So if you want to write, you’re going to have to draw lines, cut out the things that you absolutely can do without. Some people might decide it’s the kids and human contact that have to go, but I’m talking about the shows and games.

Does that mean you’re going to miss some things?

Yeah, probably.

If it’s any consolation, you’re creating something for people to discover and love. And isn’t that a nice thought?

Until next time: Be yourself, be well. Writer yourself, write well.

Honestly Serious. Seriously Honest.

04 Thursday Aug 2016

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Oh, it’s going to be one of those posts. I’m going to drop a chest nut on you.

I’ve brought this up before on the blog: “Write what you know.” It’s a mainstay of writing advice. What isn’t a mainstay of that advice is the reason behind the advice(I’ve never seen presented).

So that’s what we’ve got today. The reason behind the “write what you know” advice.

Okay. Now that you’ve stopped hyperventilating from excitement, keep reading.

So the reasoning behind the advice is simple, we’re trying to fill the page with honesty. That honest moment; being alone in a crowded coffee shop, or that moment when two people connect and form an unbreakable friendship. That honest feeling; the realization that the universe is too big for you, or how excited your pet is to see you when you come home from work lets all the shit from the day fall off your shoulders. Whatever you honestly know and have experienced coating the page so readers can connect with your story.

I’m going to pull back the curtain so you can see backstage of my writing. SPOILER ALERT: If you’re a fan of my other writing, and don’t want the whole thing dissected then skip to the salutation. For those of you that remain here’s some honesty for you: For a good chunk of my life, and I’m talking a solid 25 years, I’ve felt alone, like I didn’t belong, it’s something that I struggle with even now. I joke, but it really is true, that I was raised to be an outsider by a family of outsiders. So if you look at my writing it’s all, and I mean every story I’ve written, is about being alone, feeling isolated, struggling to find a place to fit. That’s the emotion I know the most, and that’s the emotional truth I put onto the page.

Now, that write what you know advice doesn’t have to consume the entirety of your stories like mine does. In the examples above I mention that pet whose enthusiasm to see you makes life easier to bear. That is an emotional truth itself, and you can use it in your writing. I would like to express the emotional truth is not the same as actual truth, so you can apply the knowledge of that moment and relationship to a married/dating couple. It’s still fiction writing after all. You see just because you haven’t experienced a specific thing, let’s say divorce, doesn’t mean you haven’t felt alone, or betrayed, and can apply it to the character in your story that is getting divorced.

The important thing to remember is the honest emotions you’ve experienced and apply those to your writing. The problems arise when you try to write about an emotion you haven’t experienced. Don’t be discouraged, every day you get to run through, roughly, 16 hours of emotions, eventually you’ll have enough for a whole saga of novels.

Until next time: Be yourself, be well. Write yourself, write well.

I’d Like to Buy a Vowell, Please

02 Wednesday Dec 2015

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I recently read an interview with Sarah Vowell in the magazine Mental Floss. In the interview she says: “…there is no one rule. Every story deserves to be told differently.” In the interview she’s talking about nonfiction writing, but the same sentiment can be applied to fiction writing as well.

I want to start off by saying, this statement was made from a perspective of confidence and experience in one’s own writing. Indeed it could be said, correctly, that as a writer you have to know what your voice is before you try finding the story’s voice, and intertwining your voice with it.

However, if you’re struggling to find your voice, listening to how the story wants to be told can be liberating and even fun. As a way to try this out, look at a story you’ve written. Pick one at random, pick one you might be having a hard time editing-you can try one of the stories that you love, but it might be harder to see it as something else. Read the story. Once you’ve re-familiarized yourself with the story, try to see it as something else. If it’s in third person, what would it look like in first person? What would change about the story? Try writing a few pages that way. If it’s already in first person, what would it look like as a series of letters/journal entries/blog posts. Again, what would change about the story? Would you lose important scenes? How could you re-incorporate them into the story? If the story follows one character, look at the other characters-supporting characters-of the story. What would the story be like from their perspective? Take a look at a short story, what would it look like as a play? Given the limitations of space in a theatre, on a stage, could the story be played out in one setting? Do you need the same amount of characters? Look at the characters in one of your stories, what would happen if you took out one of those characters and all the information/actions they do in the story? Do you still have a story? Probably, but is it the same story? If you have the same story even though you took out an entire character, then did you really need that character in the first place?

The point of doing this is to look at writing in general, and your writing specifically, in a different way. In a way that you wouldn’t normally, but may surprise you by being a way you like.

This is also a way to take chances with your writing. I’ve been in several writing groups over the past couple years, and I’ve found that many people don’t take chances with their writing; are resistant to feedback that veers the story off the path they’ve chosen for it (I’d like to sidebar the comment: this is entirely their right to do as the author, but they may be missing opportunities for the story to grow). It’s not just stubbornness that keep a writer from changing the way a story is told. It can be fear that keeps a writer from changing a story they’ve spent so much time finding in the first place. Our profession is highly subjective, and entails a lot of rejection and questioning of motives (mainly of characters). So I can understand the anxiety ensues when it’s suggested that a story you thought was done-it just needs some tweaks-could be re-written a different way.

Oh, my God! What if I fail writing it like that?!?!

It’s true. You could fail. You could fail spectacularly. There is an old saying, that people learn more from their mistakes than their successes. It may be clichéd, but it’s true. You can learn a lot from everything you do wrong, as long as you learn from it.

Let me share with you a recent writing group experience. I read someone’s story (as you do in a writing group). I’ve read this person’s work before. They are heavily influenced by H.P. Lovecraft. (I may have mentioned this person before.) So, they give the group their story. It’s a story about a society oppressed and a resistance. It’s set in an alternate, sub-reality, of magic. Here’s where I want to say that this person knows this genre. I know they know this genre, because this story hit all the beats this type of resistance-uprising story should. In the end that’s why, I felt, the story doesn’t work. It hits ALL the beats for this type of story. There were no surprises. There was nothing that jumped off the page as unique or special.

I want to put this simply: I’m NOT saying this was written poorly. It was written with thought and knowledge. What I’m saying is that it’s a bad story. A fan of this genre of story could pick up this story and enjoy it, but they won’t remember it. When asked about good stories in the genre they probably won’t mention this story by name.

I know it’s odd to say that someone who didn’t do anything wrong wrote a bad story. (If you’re totally confused about how this happens; you clearly haven’t read the last post.) But they did do something wrong: They didn’t take any chances. They stayed exactly inside the lines for this genre of story. They didn’t think about this story in a new way, and because of that it is destined to fall into the background noise of the genre.

This is sad to me, because I like this person. They are very passionate about writing, and about what they write. They’ve reached the point where they’ve modeled/molded themselves into a writer of the horror genre. Now all they need to do (What all of us need to do as writers), is break the mold.

That’s the thing to take away today: think about your stories in more than one way. Just because it’s challenging doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. Remember, at the end of the day it’s your writing. If you don’t like the way your risk turned out, trash it and go back to the original.

Well, I think that’s it for me. Until next time: Be yourself, be well. Write yourself, write well.

The Ergonomics of Failure

08 Thursday Oct 2015

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We’re back again for another installment.

Last time I mentioned failure. So I wanted to talk a little more about that. Because, you know, I don’t think life is depressing enough.

Anyway. I specifically say: “Stopping writing makes you a failure.” While at the time I was being inspirational this time I wanted to talk practically about that statement. I’ve asked several authors what is meant by the term, failed novel. All of them said that a failed novel is basically a novel that you stop working on.

I want to be clear on this. A novel isn’t a failure because it’s been rejected x number of times, or xx number of times, or xxx number of times, or xxxx number of times. It’s not a failure because it’s never published. It’s not a failure because numerous, very loud people don’t like it. It’s not a failure because, while people like it, the public misses the underlying point that you were going for in the story.

The only thing that makes a novel failed is you giving up on it.

Now I’m not talking about: I’ve been working on this novel for months/years. I’ve written it, re-written it, and re-re-written. I’m at the point that, I as the author cannot do anything more with it; I’m going to need a third party to come in and take a look at it before I can do anything else with it. So you stop actively working on it so you can focus on other things, like another novel, or eating, or your relationship (I swear I had a girlfriend/boyfriend/fiancé around here somewhere).

What I’m talking about when I say a novel is failed is: I got fifty pages in about a couple years ago and then I just haven’t had the time to pick it back up. Or, I tried writing a novel, but it just wasn’t for me. Or, I wrote a whole novel, but no one seemed to like it so, but I’m not going to change anything because they don’t get it; I’ll just focus on my porn addiction for a while.

Basically any time you just stop working on a novel, and just never go back to pick it up. The above reasons are pretty negative, but a failed novel might be a good thing too. Just let me explain. If you spend time writing you should, eventually, get a feel for your writing process, your style, and stories in general. You could have a great idea for a novel, get fifty pages in, and you realize that it’s just not working. Whatever the reason may be: the subject might not translate well, you might be having trouble organizing your thoughts, you might not be feeling the story right then. In that case you abandon the project in favor for a project that comes more easily. Or you might decide that your brilliant idea for a novel actually works better as a short story.

As a writer it is important that you’re able to identify poor writing, especially if it’s yours. Just because you have a failed novel doesn’t mean you are a failure. Apparently, John Green in the wake of The Fault in Our Stars, has started and abandoned four or five novels.

(If you don’t know who John Green is; he’s awesome. If you haven’t read The Fault in Our Stars; you should.)

The point I’m going for is this: Just because you have a failed novel doesn’t mean you are a failure. As the old saying goes: We learn more from our failures then our successes. And again: the only thing that makes you a failure is if you stop writing. So don’t let that one failed novel/story define the rest of your story, learn from it and move on.

Until next time: be yourself, be well; write yourself, write well.

The Rejection Reflection Injection

07 Friday Aug 2015

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Okay, so, since I took us out of the beautiful ephemeralness of the writing process and thrust us into the concrete really-realness of putting yourself out there I thought this time I’d put out a life jacket.

I mentioned that my preferred way of putting yourself out there for the public was getting published. This was a tad full hardy, and easier said than done. Putting yourself out there through publishing is hard. You’re going to get rejected a lot.

Let me say that again: YOU’RE GOING TO GET REJECTED A LOT.

Alright. Deep breath. Now everyone say it with me…

I’m going to get rejected a lot.

This does not make you a failure. … … Trust me, I know how that sounds. Even I have trouble believing that every now and again. Because, and this is just the truth, you’re going to feel like a failure after your umpteenth rejection.

One of the things you should keep in mind during this whole process is: our work is subjective. As much as publishers and agents may look at Harry Potter and say that it was successful because of x, x, and x. Or the Twilight series. Or the works of Michael Chabon. (and I’m showing my age here.) It is really up to the taste of the public what becomes popular, and with small publishing—short stories in a maga/e-zine—it’s up to the editor what goes into the publication. For instance: I have a zombie-ish story—Issues of Revanantcy—which I sent to the publication Brave Blue Mice. It was accepted to the webpage portion of the publication, but in the acceptance letter, and I’ll never forget this, the person who read it said they almost rejected it without reading it. And why, you may ask, would they do that? Because it was about zombies—well revenants, which are slightly different, but I digress. And they just get so many zombie story the person didn’t want to read yet another story about them. In the end they did, and found out that zombie stories can be more than: “high school kids running around screaming and getting eaten in the goriest ways possible.” (Or something to that effect.)

So yeah, subjectivity plays a big part in what we do. The above story also illustrates another thing to keep in mind about writing and rejection: you’re not alone. There are so many people out there writing, and the Interweb has made it much easier to put your/their/everyone’s writing in the hands of the people. So if you’ve written a zombie story someone else has too. If you’ve written a lesbian vampire story someone else has too. If you’ve written a Suesian jaunt through the mind of psychopathic killer haunted by the ghosts of victims who finds love with one of the ghosts and attempts to resurrect said ghost in a new body well…you should really get that published because I kinda want to read that. The point I’m going for isn’t you should shelve your zombie story because everyone is doing zombie stories (or anything really zombies just seems to be the theme today), but you should highlight what makes yours different, and you have to fight that much harder for it.

By the way, this also means there are hundreds, at least, of writing blogs out there. So if you’re reading this one: THANKS FOR READING THIS ONE!

I’m going to finish with the point I made all the way at the beginning of this: rejection doesn’t make you a failure. Stopping writing makes you a failure. Rejection can’t make you stop writing, only you can stop you from writing. The worst rejection can do is tell you that this editor of this mag/e-zine doesn’t think this story is right for them. Take that as a challenge to find one your stories, or write a new one, that the editor will think is a good fit for the publication.

Don’t stop writing.

And: Be yourself, be well; write yourself, write well.

Platforming isn’t just for Plumbers and Hedgehogs

09 Thursday Jul 2015

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So we’re going to change gears (sorta) for a second here. We’ve talked a lot about writing, as you might expect from a writing blog, but I’d like to talk about what comes after. That’s right, now that you’ve wrote something you’re proud of you have to show it to people.

Cringe, gasp, heart palpitations, rising blood pressure, glee, confidence.

Okay. Finished? Take a minute. Take a deep breath. Get a glass of water.

Better? Good.

So let’s talk about publishing and finding an agent, or, at least, one part of it. Most publishing companies, and some agents, will ask you about your marketing platform. Don’t get all sweaty over the jargon. What they’re asking you, basically, is what are you willing to do to promote yourself and your work.

I know, you thought that was their job.

So one of the ways you can respond, if you’ve been doing that, is that you have exposure. This means you and your work are out there. For instance you have a blog, even if you just review books you’ve read on it, you have a Twitter following (again talking about writing or books or daily thoughts/ideas about your writing) where you interact with your fans. Some of you might want to start a YouTube channel where you dispense advice about writing, rant about your writers’ block, or do quick reviews of books (I hear some people are very successful at the YouTube).

Part of the reason for this blog is to put me out there so agents and publisher can see that I’m out there. I don’t do book reviews because I’m not really in to telling you how I didn’t like a book. I get yelled at enough by my wife when I do that with her. Plus, I like to feel like I’m contributing, so I try to put some (reasonably) good advice.

The oldest way to expose yourself, and the one I recommend, is getting your writing (the shorter stuff obviously) in print. Who would have thought you could get fans by doing what you’re good at?

Yeah, so getting your work out there is just as useful (and I would say the most useful) as getting your name out there. It has the benefit of putting your name out there, and your work at the same time. Also it keeps you writing. This is always a good thing!

So the point is this: there is more to being a writer than just writing. You have to be “out there.” You have to be willing to be out there. There’s old saying about you being your best promoter, and it’s just as true now as it was when whoever said it said it.

I know for some of you this might be scary. I still worry that I’m doing something wrong whenever the cursor hovers over the publish button. You have to get over that. Being a writer is about putting yourself on the page; about putting yourself out there anyway. So put yourself out there.

Until next time: Be you, be well; write you, write well.

Is That An Echo…echo…echo…echo…o…o

18 Monday May 2015

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So let’s talk about your reading requirements for a second. As a writer one of your main jobs is reading. Ask any professional it’s an important part of the job. Teachers read teaching magazines and look online to see how other teachers taught a subject. Doctors read medical journals to keep up to date on the newest research and medical procedures. You get the picture. As a writer your reading requirements are much more fun because you should read the books in your subject so you know what’s out there. For instance: if you write historical fiction you should read historical fiction; if you write contemporary fiction, read contemporary fiction; if you write horror, read horror. Again picture had.

So you’re doing that. You’ve been doing that. You’ve read so-and-so’s story that inspired you to write in the first place. That’s great. That’s wonderful. That’s exactly what I want to talk about.

As beginning writers it is natural to mimic the writers/stories that inspire us to write. Firstly, I want to say that this is a good first step, a needed first step, in the process to becoming a writer. We mimic to become. As humans it’s what we do.

However, eventually you have to step away from that and actually become.

Recently, in my writing group a fellow writer turned in a couple stories that clearly had been influenced by H. P. Lovecraft. I was more than a bit excited to see them since I too am influenced by Lovecraft. Unfortunately they were so influenced by Lovecraft that I might as well have been reading Lovecraft. I knew the stories weren’t written by Lovecraft, obviously, but the writer’s voice who did write them was nowhere to be found.

That is the downside to mimicry: you don’t get to be you. If I’m, or anyone, is reading a story that you wrote it’s because we want to hear the story you’re telling. It’s your take on the story, your insight, the outlook of the world that only you can provide.

So just keep that in mind as you continue to write. Mimicry is a part of becoming a writer, but only until you wings fully develop, only until you find your sea legs, only until you have the basics. Then the hard part comes, and you have to write as you.

Be you, be well; write you, write well.