MFA-type navel-gazing, for those who might be interested.
I was glad to revisit Misery for our horror genre readings course. It's been several years since I first read this novel, and I was interested to see if it still held the same morbid fascination for me now as it did when I was a teenager.
Read the rest...http://blogs.setonhill.edu/MattDuvall/2009/10/number_one_fan.html
Monday, October 12, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
In other blogs....
Came across this cool Steampunk generator created by David Malki over at Wondermark. Very cool site... Check it out!
~D
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Men Writing Women
This is a repost of a response I did for one of my grad classes. I'd love to know what you think!
Warning – this post might include inadvertent sexism and/or stereotyping.
Not too long ago, my husband and I talked about writers writing protagonists of the opposite gender. This probably stemmed from the fact that Matt's current works involve female protagonists. I stated that I believe it is easier for women to write as men than vice versa. Matt replied, "It is both socially and craftily harder for a man to write as a woman than it is for a woman to write as a man." (Yes, he made up the word craftily).
For an example, we talked about Stephen King and his wife, Tabitha. In Tabitha's book, The Book of Reuben, she writes a very strong male protagonist. However, Stephen King, doesn't manage to grasp the female perspective as well (for a good example, see A Bag of Bones).
Personally, I don't even think Shakespeare could pull off a good woman. Take for example Othello. Desdemona was such a doofus!
The reason I believe this (I won't presume to state why Matt thinks this) is because women are more emotionally complicated than men. True, some male authors manage quite well to write from the female perspective. Arthur Golden's Memoirs of a Geisha, Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, Nicholas Sparks (though I can't stomach his books!), Phillip Pullman and others had believable female characters.
Yet, oftentimes when I read a man writing for a woman, the woman seems to come off as either too emotional or not emotional enough. Men either don’t seem to grasp the complexity of a woman or they over think that complexity.
However, when I was thinking about this, I realized there is one genre where it seems that male authors are more able to get away with (or better skilled at) writing women. That genre? Fantasy, of course!
So, this got me thinking. Are fantasy writers considered better at writing women because we will allow more latitude with women in fantastical situations? Since the female protagonist in a fantasy is not quite of the world we know, do we not expect that females emotions to be like a woman in this age?
To answer this question, what better book to look at that Terry Pratchett's Monstrous Regiment, where every character is a woman?! I will admit that Pratchett might be a bit better off in the challenge of writing women since his women are pretending to be men, but...
When I first started reading the book, I immediately felt a little uncomfortable with Pratchett's description of Polly/Oliver. Why? Because of how he described her flat chest. The only emotion Pratchett gave Polly was "sheer annoyance that a haircut was all she needed to pass for a young man. She didn't even need to bind up her bosom..." (1). Women with small chests feel one of two things – pride for that chest, or self-conscious inadequacy. Polly should have felt that annoyance that she could pass off as a man because of her chest. However, unlike Pratchett described, she should have kept feeling that way for quite some time.
I got over this, though. I believe I got over this because Polly doesn't live in a world where normal things are happening. Of course she shouldn't feel normally, right?
It's even harder to try and claim that some of the other women are acting like women because, really, what experience do we have with vampires and zombie-like things? How can any reader complain that Maladict(a) and Igor(ina) aren't acting like real females of their species should be?
The question then remains, when we suspend our disbelief of what should happen in a fantasy world, do we often suspend our disbelief of how a woman should act and think? I think we do.
So, for any of the men out there who would like to write female protagonists – your best bet is to put them in a fantastical situation.
Warning – this post might include inadvertent sexism and/or stereotyping.
Not too long ago, my husband and I talked about writers writing protagonists of the opposite gender. This probably stemmed from the fact that Matt's current works involve female protagonists. I stated that I believe it is easier for women to write as men than vice versa. Matt replied, "It is both socially and craftily harder for a man to write as a woman than it is for a woman to write as a man." (Yes, he made up the word craftily).
For an example, we talked about Stephen King and his wife, Tabitha. In Tabitha's book, The Book of Reuben, she writes a very strong male protagonist. However, Stephen King, doesn't manage to grasp the female perspective as well (for a good example, see A Bag of Bones).
Personally, I don't even think Shakespeare could pull off a good woman. Take for example Othello. Desdemona was such a doofus!
The reason I believe this (I won't presume to state why Matt thinks this) is because women are more emotionally complicated than men. True, some male authors manage quite well to write from the female perspective. Arthur Golden's Memoirs of a Geisha, Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, Nicholas Sparks (though I can't stomach his books!), Phillip Pullman and others had believable female characters.
Yet, oftentimes when I read a man writing for a woman, the woman seems to come off as either too emotional or not emotional enough. Men either don’t seem to grasp the complexity of a woman or they over think that complexity.
However, when I was thinking about this, I realized there is one genre where it seems that male authors are more able to get away with (or better skilled at) writing women. That genre? Fantasy, of course!
So, this got me thinking. Are fantasy writers considered better at writing women because we will allow more latitude with women in fantastical situations? Since the female protagonist in a fantasy is not quite of the world we know, do we not expect that females emotions to be like a woman in this age?
To answer this question, what better book to look at that Terry Pratchett's Monstrous Regiment, where every character is a woman?! I will admit that Pratchett might be a bit better off in the challenge of writing women since his women are pretending to be men, but...
When I first started reading the book, I immediately felt a little uncomfortable with Pratchett's description of Polly/Oliver. Why? Because of how he described her flat chest. The only emotion Pratchett gave Polly was "sheer annoyance that a haircut was all she needed to pass for a young man. She didn't even need to bind up her bosom..." (1). Women with small chests feel one of two things – pride for that chest, or self-conscious inadequacy. Polly should have felt that annoyance that she could pass off as a man because of her chest. However, unlike Pratchett described, she should have kept feeling that way for quite some time.
I got over this, though. I believe I got over this because Polly doesn't live in a world where normal things are happening. Of course she shouldn't feel normally, right?
It's even harder to try and claim that some of the other women are acting like women because, really, what experience do we have with vampires and zombie-like things? How can any reader complain that Maladict(a) and Igor(ina) aren't acting like real females of their species should be?
The question then remains, when we suspend our disbelief of what should happen in a fantasy world, do we often suspend our disbelief of how a woman should act and think? I think we do.
So, for any of the men out there who would like to write female protagonists – your best bet is to put them in a fantastical situation.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Hell Hath No Fury Like a Horror Writer
Care to see what my foray back into academia has produced?
http://blogs.setonhill.edu/NatalieDuvall/2009/09/hell_hath_no_fury_like_a_horro.html
http://blogs.setonhill.edu/NatalieDuvall/2009/09/hell_hath_no_fury_like_a_horro.html
Friday, September 11, 2009
Blogging for fun, not profit
It was recently brought to my attention by a very smart lady that I need to prioritize my life. I need to decide what's important to me and the goals I want to accomplish. Blogging will not bring me a book deal despite some very recent and popular movies that glorify blogging. Okay, so it might bring a book deal to SOME people, but it's certainly not a common occurrence. So, at what point do you sacrifice your novel writing time to blog? And do you have to make a sacrifice at all?I don't believe so.
So I blog for fun. I have two blogs now, soon to be four. Though I imagine I will be doing more re-posting from blog to blog to steal time back for my "real" writing in the future. I do enjoy getting my thought out into the interwebz for anyone to read. I'm not 100% anyone DOES read this but I plug on despite that. All in due time, right?
In any case, I could stop in order to focus on the elusive Great American, award-winning, novel that somehow hasn't managed to write itself despite how brilliant I am. Well, brilliant, I may be, but motivated? That's another story.
Whether it's a distraction or the push I needed, blogging has brought the joy back to writing for me. And that, for now, is what makes this worthwhile. So for the moment, I guess this is up there on the priority list.
~D
Thursday, September 10, 2009
I See Homosexual People
Following Natalie's cue, I'm posting one of my school blogs here...this one also deals with reader expectations. You can read more at http://blogs.setonhill.edu/MattDuvall.
In her book Sexual Anarchy, Elaine Showalter contends that Robert Louis Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr.Hyde is actually describing "the nearly hysterical terror of revealing forbidden emotions between men....a case study of male hysteria" (107). She goes on to further state her case, citing the use of the word "queer" (112) and the way the "male homosexual body is also represented in the narrative in a series of images suggestive of anality and anal intercourse" (113).
Showalter's assertions are interesting, and should remind us as writers that while we may think we are just spinning a simple tale of multiple personality disorder, our readers will bring their own ideas to the story. They may end up reading things we did not write, or may sense a subconscious subtext that, real or imagined, we did not intend to include. However, in this case it seems that Showalter may be over-reaching in her analysis of the story.
First, Showalter begins by suggesting that the author may have been gay. She writes that "Stevenson himself was the object of extraordinary passion on the part of other men" (107). While she does go on to say that "Stevenson's real sexuality is much less the issue in Jekyll and Hyde" (107), she implies that the book is a way for him to explore his own conflicted personality and most secret desires.
Using this logic, however, Stephen King is (or at least wants to be) a mass-murderer, Jennifer Cruisie has had sex with legions of men (doubtful), and Mark Twain was a racist. Likewise, even if the book is a discourse on homosexuality, it doesn't automatically follow that Stevenson was gay.
Showalter cites examples of the personification of homosexuality in Jekyll and Hyde--"Hyde travels in the 'chocolate-brown fog' that beats about the 'back-end of the evening'; while the streets he traverses are invariably 'muddy' and 'dark,' Jekyll's house, with its two entrances" (113) is, to Showalter, the most explicit example of a man's body.
I had never noticed these things before, but after the Showalter article I started seeing homosexual references everywhere. Stevenson writes "the stick with which the deed had been done...was...rare...wood" (34). When Utterson and Enfield encounter Dr. Jekyll at one point, they have a conversation where Utterson tells Jekyll "'You should be out whipping up the circulation like Mr. Enfield and me'" and Jekyll replies "'I should like to very much; but no, no, no, it is quite impossible; I dare not'" (Stevenson 52). Near the end, "where Jekyll perhaps might have succumbed, Hyde rose to the importance of the moment" (Stevenson 95).
It is interesting how a work of fiction may have many interpretations, and how, once exposed to a certain point of view, the reader may begin to see evidence supporting that particular interpretation. For example, some reviewers feel "the relationship between Jekyll and Hyde is also characterized as almost a father and son relationship, and reflects further ambivalence on Stevenson's part towards living in a house purchased for him by his father" (Danahay 129). At the time of its publication, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was "quoted widely in sermons...as an example of the dangers of sin and vice" (Danahay 134).
So, is Stevenson's book rife with homosexual imagery? In an effort to study reader expectations, I picked a sampling of books from my own shelf and inspected them for passages that could be construed as relating to homosexuality or the human body. Here is what I found. Charlotte Bronte swings both ways in Jane Eyre. Early on the narrator says "to-night I was to be Miss Miller's bedfellow; she helped me to undress" (Bronte 42). Later, though, Jane's attention turns to "Mr. Brocklehurst, buttoned up in a surtout, and looking loner, narrower, and more rigid than ever" (Bronte 59).
Despite Dumbledore's predilections, J K Rowling mostly focuses on hetero (if somewhat underaged) desires. In Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, "Hermione grimly" tells Harry to "'Watch your frog, it's escaping'" (Rowling 374). Harry realizes too late that "he was indeed squeezing his bullfrog so tightly that its eyes were popping" (Rowling 375). However, there are a few homosexual images, as Hermione has "suspected this ever since Filch accused you of ordering Dungbombs" (Rowling 374).
Even Elmore Leonard can not resist including homosexual images in his writing. In Leonard's The Hot Kid we find this very revealing passage: "'Yeah, picking nuts. But he's always let me have my head'" (171).Obviously, these examples are very contrived and almost (or extremely) silly. However, they do prove that we as readers can inject almost any context we wish into a book, and then find the evidence to support our claims. It is important to look at ourselves and our own prejudices when we are examining writing. The danger of reading too much into a work is that we will be unable to convince others when we have valid points. For example, while Showalter probably has many good and interesting ideas, I will view any literary criticism of hers with suspicion in the future.
Works Cited
Bronte, Charlotte. Jane Eyre. Dover Thrift Edition. Mineola, NY: Dover Publications Inc., 2002. Print.
Danahay, Martin A. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. 2nd edition. Peterborough, ON: Broadview Press, 2005. Print.
Leonard, Elmore. The Hot Kid. Paperback. New York: Harper Collins, 2005. Print.
Rowling, J. K.. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Hardcover. New York: Scholastic Press, 2003. Print.
Showalter, Elaine. Sexual Anarchy: Gender and Culture at the Fin de Siecle. New York: Viking, 1990. Print.
Stevenson, Robert Louis. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Travels with a Donkey. Art-Type Edition. New York: Books, Inc., Unknown. Print.
In her book Sexual Anarchy, Elaine Showalter contends that Robert Louis Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr.Hyde is actually describing "the nearly hysterical terror of revealing forbidden emotions between men....a case study of male hysteria" (107). She goes on to further state her case, citing the use of the word "queer" (112) and the way the "male homosexual body is also represented in the narrative in a series of images suggestive of anality and anal intercourse" (113).
Showalter's assertions are interesting, and should remind us as writers that while we may think we are just spinning a simple tale of multiple personality disorder, our readers will bring their own ideas to the story. They may end up reading things we did not write, or may sense a subconscious subtext that, real or imagined, we did not intend to include. However, in this case it seems that Showalter may be over-reaching in her analysis of the story.
First, Showalter begins by suggesting that the author may have been gay. She writes that "Stevenson himself was the object of extraordinary passion on the part of other men" (107). While she does go on to say that "Stevenson's real sexuality is much less the issue in Jekyll and Hyde" (107), she implies that the book is a way for him to explore his own conflicted personality and most secret desires.
Using this logic, however, Stephen King is (or at least wants to be) a mass-murderer, Jennifer Cruisie has had sex with legions of men (doubtful), and Mark Twain was a racist. Likewise, even if the book is a discourse on homosexuality, it doesn't automatically follow that Stevenson was gay.
Showalter cites examples of the personification of homosexuality in Jekyll and Hyde--"Hyde travels in the 'chocolate-brown fog' that beats about the 'back-end of the evening'; while the streets he traverses are invariably 'muddy' and 'dark,' Jekyll's house, with its two entrances" (113) is, to Showalter, the most explicit example of a man's body.
I had never noticed these things before, but after the Showalter article I started seeing homosexual references everywhere. Stevenson writes "the stick with which the deed had been done...was...rare...wood" (34). When Utterson and Enfield encounter Dr. Jekyll at one point, they have a conversation where Utterson tells Jekyll "'You should be out whipping up the circulation like Mr. Enfield and me'" and Jekyll replies "'I should like to very much; but no, no, no, it is quite impossible; I dare not'" (Stevenson 52). Near the end, "where Jekyll perhaps might have succumbed, Hyde rose to the importance of the moment" (Stevenson 95).
It is interesting how a work of fiction may have many interpretations, and how, once exposed to a certain point of view, the reader may begin to see evidence supporting that particular interpretation. For example, some reviewers feel "the relationship between Jekyll and Hyde is also characterized as almost a father and son relationship, and reflects further ambivalence on Stevenson's part towards living in a house purchased for him by his father" (Danahay 129). At the time of its publication, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was "quoted widely in sermons...as an example of the dangers of sin and vice" (Danahay 134).
So, is Stevenson's book rife with homosexual imagery? In an effort to study reader expectations, I picked a sampling of books from my own shelf and inspected them for passages that could be construed as relating to homosexuality or the human body. Here is what I found. Charlotte Bronte swings both ways in Jane Eyre. Early on the narrator says "to-night I was to be Miss Miller's bedfellow; she helped me to undress" (Bronte 42). Later, though, Jane's attention turns to "Mr. Brocklehurst, buttoned up in a surtout, and looking loner, narrower, and more rigid than ever" (Bronte 59).
Despite Dumbledore's predilections, J K Rowling mostly focuses on hetero (if somewhat underaged) desires. In Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, "Hermione grimly" tells Harry to "'Watch your frog, it's escaping'" (Rowling 374). Harry realizes too late that "he was indeed squeezing his bullfrog so tightly that its eyes were popping" (Rowling 375). However, there are a few homosexual images, as Hermione has "suspected this ever since Filch accused you of ordering Dungbombs" (Rowling 374).
Even Elmore Leonard can not resist including homosexual images in his writing. In Leonard's The Hot Kid we find this very revealing passage: "'Yeah, picking nuts. But he's always let me have my head'" (171).Obviously, these examples are very contrived and almost (or extremely) silly. However, they do prove that we as readers can inject almost any context we wish into a book, and then find the evidence to support our claims. It is important to look at ourselves and our own prejudices when we are examining writing. The danger of reading too much into a work is that we will be unable to convince others when we have valid points. For example, while Showalter probably has many good and interesting ideas, I will view any literary criticism of hers with suspicion in the future.
Works Cited
Bronte, Charlotte. Jane Eyre. Dover Thrift Edition. Mineola, NY: Dover Publications Inc., 2002. Print.
Danahay, Martin A. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. 2nd edition. Peterborough, ON: Broadview Press, 2005. Print.
Leonard, Elmore. The Hot Kid. Paperback. New York: Harper Collins, 2005. Print.
Rowling, J. K.. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Hardcover. New York: Scholastic Press, 2003. Print.
Showalter, Elaine. Sexual Anarchy: Gender and Culture at the Fin de Siecle. New York: Viking, 1990. Print.
Stevenson, Robert Louis. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Travels with a Donkey. Art-Type Edition. New York: Books, Inc., Unknown. Print.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Reposting -- "Don't read too much into this, 'k?"
You can find the original post, and other literary (kinda) ramblings at http://blogs.setonhill.edu/NatalieDuvall/
As I read David Punter's analysis of Robert Bloch's Psycho, I found many valid points in his discussion of the novel. I found some things especially interesting. One of the things that stood out to me was Punter's note that "...it is a double death which is referred to, the deaths of a man and a woman; although the deaths do not actually occur simultaneously" (Punter 96). I can see how the original murders - those of Norman's mother and her lover - connect in the murderers mind with these two later murders.
And that's when I got to thinking. Does it have to be this way? Did Bloch have to think all these things, to plan all these deeply insightful journeys into his pyschopath's mind?
Or did Bloch one day just sit down at his typewriter (that's what they used to write with in the 1950's, right?) and say, "Man, wouldn't it be great if there was this guy who killed these people dressed up in his mother's skin?!"
I had these same thoughts when reading The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and discussing the possibilities of homosexual undertones in the story. Why couldn't Robert Louis Stevenson, gay or straight, just write a great story about a guy who managed to split himself into two personalities, one good and one bad?
Why do we search for hidden agendas and not just proclaim the beauty of a great plot?
Am I thinking this just because I don't have veiled meanings in my stories? If someone were to read my work, would they wonder about latent lesbian tendencies or how well I delved into the psyche of a Regency era woman? Would it matter if they did? Heck, I might actually be flattered that they did - and then I'd run with it and say that was exactly my intent.
I know that Plato and Fish and Wolff have all debated literary theory before me, but I still wonder when plot is more than plot and words are more than words.
What makes it not enough for a writer to simply tell a good story? Is there something wrong with the reader if he or she tries to dig up a meaning behind the words?
What makes us as readers search for hidden meanings? Are we scared that someone like Bloch might tell a story of a shower-time decapitation without having multiple layers of psychoanalytical meaning?
What would happen if all the stories we read were just that, stories? People would have to look at themselves, then, for the reaction a story created.
I think that's why we love to give deeper meanings to works of art. If Stevenson didn't intend to put homosexual allusions in his story, then that means there is some part of us that sees those images in the text. That's what scares us. It's okay if an author put something in his or her story. It's not okay if we take something out of the story.
Especially in horror fiction, if we see our own meaning in a story, it means that we can relate to the story. To relate to a horror story is... well, it's horrifying! No one wants to admit that they could understand why someone would have a sexual relationship with a lock of hair.
So, I say to you, we need to look for the deeper meanings in literary criticism. It is clear that David Punter had mother issues. In fact, more than that, he struggles with his sexual identity. Because of how his mother treated him, he wants to turn himself into a woman, though he struggles with how to become a "young girl with beautiful breasts" (Punter 95).
Works Cited
Punter, David. "Robert Bloch's Psycho: Some Pathological Contexts." In American Horror Fiction: From Brockden Brown to Stephen King. Ed. Brian Docherty. New York: St. Martin's Press, 1990. 92-106.
As I read David Punter's analysis of Robert Bloch's Psycho, I found many valid points in his discussion of the novel. I found some things especially interesting. One of the things that stood out to me was Punter's note that "...it is a double death which is referred to, the deaths of a man and a woman; although the deaths do not actually occur simultaneously" (Punter 96). I can see how the original murders - those of Norman's mother and her lover - connect in the murderers mind with these two later murders.
And that's when I got to thinking. Does it have to be this way? Did Bloch have to think all these things, to plan all these deeply insightful journeys into his pyschopath's mind?
Or did Bloch one day just sit down at his typewriter (that's what they used to write with in the 1950's, right?) and say, "Man, wouldn't it be great if there was this guy who killed these people dressed up in his mother's skin?!"
I had these same thoughts when reading The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and discussing the possibilities of homosexual undertones in the story. Why couldn't Robert Louis Stevenson, gay or straight, just write a great story about a guy who managed to split himself into two personalities, one good and one bad?
Why do we search for hidden agendas and not just proclaim the beauty of a great plot?
Am I thinking this just because I don't have veiled meanings in my stories? If someone were to read my work, would they wonder about latent lesbian tendencies or how well I delved into the psyche of a Regency era woman? Would it matter if they did? Heck, I might actually be flattered that they did - and then I'd run with it and say that was exactly my intent.
I know that Plato and Fish and Wolff have all debated literary theory before me, but I still wonder when plot is more than plot and words are more than words.
What makes it not enough for a writer to simply tell a good story? Is there something wrong with the reader if he or she tries to dig up a meaning behind the words?
What makes us as readers search for hidden meanings? Are we scared that someone like Bloch might tell a story of a shower-time decapitation without having multiple layers of psychoanalytical meaning?
What would happen if all the stories we read were just that, stories? People would have to look at themselves, then, for the reaction a story created.
I think that's why we love to give deeper meanings to works of art. If Stevenson didn't intend to put homosexual allusions in his story, then that means there is some part of us that sees those images in the text. That's what scares us. It's okay if an author put something in his or her story. It's not okay if we take something out of the story.
Especially in horror fiction, if we see our own meaning in a story, it means that we can relate to the story. To relate to a horror story is... well, it's horrifying! No one wants to admit that they could understand why someone would have a sexual relationship with a lock of hair.
So, I say to you, we need to look for the deeper meanings in literary criticism. It is clear that David Punter had mother issues. In fact, more than that, he struggles with his sexual identity. Because of how his mother treated him, he wants to turn himself into a woman, though he struggles with how to become a "young girl with beautiful breasts" (Punter 95).
Works Cited
Punter, David. "Robert Bloch's Psycho: Some Pathological Contexts." In American Horror Fiction: From Brockden Brown to Stephen King. Ed. Brian Docherty. New York: St. Martin's Press, 1990. 92-106.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
4stories: Void
Void
The Thin Man turned and walked into the darkness. with every left step, he bent at the waist and with every right step he straightened. Mitch thought it strange at first but as they continued through the void, he grew used to the shuffle and snap of those steps.
"Where are we going?" Mitch asked after a very long period of silence.
Thin man's upper torso snaked around, his head the last thing to turn. "Hold up the orb."
Mitch held it in front of him. Initially, when it had been shoved into his hand, it had glowed brightly. Not long after it dimmed to a dull glow.
"You have to be thinking of light for it to glow."
Mitch glanced at the orb. It seemed silly to think the orb into lighting. He shrugged. This moment was as ridiculous as any other moment since walking through the cellar door. He imagined the green light he witnessed earlier filling every dark space around him and baring every wall, crack and crevice of where ever he was standing.
Nothing happened.
He glanced at Thin Man, disbelief and distrust evident throughout every part of him.
"You have to do more than imagine, little man. You have to believe the light is there for it to work."
Mitch scoffed. Belief? That was the best Thin Man could think up?
"Close your eyes," he hissed. "Close your eyes and imagine the light. Open your eyes knowing the light is there and it will be."
Mitch sighed, impatient, but then did as he was told. He closed his eyes, held the globe high, imagined the green light emanating around him and opened his eyes believing it was there.
It was.
Mitch looked around him at a long hall filled with doors. In front and behind him, the hallway seemed to have no end and no beginning, though in theory, he came from the beginning when he entered this place. "So now what?"
"Now, we pick a door."
"What's in all these rooms?"
"Places, people. Much like yourself, little man."
Mitch felt a tingle at the back of his neck and behind his ears. Something about what Thin Man said didn't sit right with him but he wasn't sure he wanted to know what was wrong in light of everything that had happened to him.
"So where are we now?"
"Now? We're no where now. We're in a long hallway with an infinite number of doors that lead to all kinds of places. Right now, we're in limbo, we're in the void, the abyss. Nothing happens here, except waiting and indecision." Thin Man's eyes darted left then right. He snaked a finger into Mitch's collar and pulled him close. His hot, fishy breath invaded Mitch's ear with every word that he whispered.
"You never know what you'll get when you open one of these doors. Some say there are stairs that lead to other floors but I've never found them. Other's say you can find your happiest dream here or your worst nightmares. Still others say you can find your way back to where you came from. But I never have."
Mitch stared straight ahead. Stairs? Where was he? With each passing moment, he grew more curious about this place he discovered. More curious, and more concerned. What if he never found something good here? So far, this place had been...uncomfortable. What if it got worse?
He would find the stairs. He would find the best doors in this place. And eventually, he would find his way home.
He walked toward the door in front of him and placed his hand on the shiny brass knob. As the door cracked open, he saw the most blinding light at the opening. The door, once cracked, sprang open, the white light spilling into the hallway. Mitch stepped through, pocketing his green orb.
Behind him, the door cracked shut and when he turned around, the door was gone.
The Thin Man turned and walked into the darkness. with every left step, he bent at the waist and with every right step he straightened. Mitch thought it strange at first but as they continued through the void, he grew used to the shuffle and snap of those steps.
"Where are we going?" Mitch asked after a very long period of silence.
Thin man's upper torso snaked around, his head the last thing to turn. "Hold up the orb."
Mitch held it in front of him. Initially, when it had been shoved into his hand, it had glowed brightly. Not long after it dimmed to a dull glow.
"You have to be thinking of light for it to glow."
Mitch glanced at the orb. It seemed silly to think the orb into lighting. He shrugged. This moment was as ridiculous as any other moment since walking through the cellar door. He imagined the green light he witnessed earlier filling every dark space around him and baring every wall, crack and crevice of where ever he was standing.
Nothing happened.
He glanced at Thin Man, disbelief and distrust evident throughout every part of him.
"You have to do more than imagine, little man. You have to believe the light is there for it to work."
Mitch scoffed. Belief? That was the best Thin Man could think up?
"Close your eyes," he hissed. "Close your eyes and imagine the light. Open your eyes knowing the light is there and it will be."
Mitch sighed, impatient, but then did as he was told. He closed his eyes, held the globe high, imagined the green light emanating around him and opened his eyes believing it was there.
It was.
Mitch looked around him at a long hall filled with doors. In front and behind him, the hallway seemed to have no end and no beginning, though in theory, he came from the beginning when he entered this place. "So now what?"
"Now, we pick a door."
"What's in all these rooms?"
"Places, people. Much like yourself, little man."
Mitch felt a tingle at the back of his neck and behind his ears. Something about what Thin Man said didn't sit right with him but he wasn't sure he wanted to know what was wrong in light of everything that had happened to him.
"So where are we now?"
"Now? We're no where now. We're in a long hallway with an infinite number of doors that lead to all kinds of places. Right now, we're in limbo, we're in the void, the abyss. Nothing happens here, except waiting and indecision." Thin Man's eyes darted left then right. He snaked a finger into Mitch's collar and pulled him close. His hot, fishy breath invaded Mitch's ear with every word that he whispered.
"You never know what you'll get when you open one of these doors. Some say there are stairs that lead to other floors but I've never found them. Other's say you can find your happiest dream here or your worst nightmares. Still others say you can find your way back to where you came from. But I never have."
Mitch stared straight ahead. Stairs? Where was he? With each passing moment, he grew more curious about this place he discovered. More curious, and more concerned. What if he never found something good here? So far, this place had been...uncomfortable. What if it got worse?
He would find the stairs. He would find the best doors in this place. And eventually, he would find his way home.
He walked toward the door in front of him and placed his hand on the shiny brass knob. As the door cracked open, he saw the most blinding light at the opening. The door, once cracked, sprang open, the white light spilling into the hallway. Mitch stepped through, pocketing his green orb.
Behind him, the door cracked shut and when he turned around, the door was gone.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
A moment, please.
There's something to be said for a perfectly maintained field of Kentucky blue grass. Its blades, cut to a precise 1.28 inches, fairly beg for the touch of a hand, a foot, a body cupped in its taut blades. A single step from your bare sole reveals its springy, yet prickled self. The scent of the moment, the earthy, fresh aroma surrounds you as you move into the field. It tickles your soul and your feet as you walk to the center. You sit, then lie back; you close your eyes and feel. Yes, there is something to be said for this moment.
-D
-D
Sunday, August 9, 2009
The Everyman's Guide to Dress T-Shirts: Chapter One
Last week, I posted the introduction to my latest tome, The Everyman's Guide to Dress T-Shirts. This week, I present chapter one to the Interweb community. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, but most of all, I hope it will bring you a fuller understanding of the universe.
Chapter One: Definition by Negation
The concept of a dress t-shirt is unfathomable to some. Most people will experience extreme doubt and confusion when first exposed to the principles in this book. Are dress t-shirts real? Will I ever be able to identify them on my own? And will they really change my life?
I am here to tell you that the answers are yes, yes, and YES. But to ease your entry into the dress t-shirt waters, I will start you off slow. First, we will define what is NOT a dress t-shirt, for the highest presence is absence.
We will start off with an easy one: the tank top (figure one). Despite what you may have heard at the laundromat, a tank top is not considered formal enough for anything more than a holiday picnic with family and close friends.
The next one is a bit tougher. What could be more formal than a tuxedo shirt? With ruffles? What about a ruffled tuxedo t-shirt?
Unfortunately, this is a trick question. A true dress t-shirt does not feel the need to represent itself as anything OTHER THAN a t-shirt. A true dress t-shirt stands proudly on its own and states, "I am here. I am a t-shirt. And I am business casual."
I know by this point your head is reeling. You're wondering if you will ever get the hang of this dress t-shirt thing. I'm here to tell you, you will. Believe in yourself, believe in your clothes, and use the information in this book, and all will be well. All manner of things will be well. But to avoid driving you into sensory overload, I will give just one final example. This is the most common mistake the dress t-shirt rookie is likely to make. And that mistake is:
Wearing a dress t-shirt that is, literally, a dress. Ask yourself this question: would I have to hike my t-shirt up to do any of the following?
- Sit down
- Retrieve my wallet/keys
- Run
- Use the restroom
- Walk across a large puddle
If the answer to one or more items is "yes," then you are not wearing a dress t-shirt. You are wearing a t-shirt dress. And you desperately need to purchase another copy of this book.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
The Everyman's Guide to Dress T-Shirts (Intro)
I'm currently shopping my nonfiction masterpiece, The Everyman's Guide to Dress T-shirts, around to different agents and editors. In the meantime, I've decided that the world can't live without this information. So I will be posting it here for all my Project4Word friends. If you like it, invite a friend. If you don't, invite an enemy. In either case, make sure it's someone who can use this information to make the world a better place. Enjoy!
Cheers,
Duvall
=====================================================================
Why a dress t-shirt?
Walter walked into the party and surveyed the crowd. The stereo was blasting classic Kool and the Gang, while a Lothario in leather chaps chatted up a beautiful red head in the corner. Walter noticed, only too late, that he was severely under-dressed for this soiree. His wife, Thelma, had tried to warn him, but he had ignored her advice--at his own peril, as he now realized. If only Walter had been able to read...
The Everyman's Guide to Dress T-shirts
What man has not found himself in a predicament such as Walter's? A place and time where a tank top is too informal, but a polo is overkill? The answer is: no man, except perhaps for George Clooney (and there is mounting evidence that he is a cyborg--see Appendix A).
This book is designed to help you obtain, organize, and fully utilize dress t-shirts. The truths are harsh, but the payoff is immeasurable. I'll be glad to hear your success stories (and believe me, a dress t-shirt is every man's secret to success), but due to the overwhelming number of responses I am sure to get, don't be offended if I don't respond to you personally. Please, use the information in this book for good and not evil. This is your guide into the glamorous world of...dress t-shirts.
Cheers,
Duvall
=====================================================================
Why a dress t-shirt?
Walter walked into the party and surveyed the crowd. The stereo was blasting classic Kool and the Gang, while a Lothario in leather chaps chatted up a beautiful red head in the corner. Walter noticed, only too late, that he was severely under-dressed for this soiree. His wife, Thelma, had tried to warn him, but he had ignored her advice--at his own peril, as he now realized. If only Walter had been able to read...
The Everyman's Guide to Dress T-shirts
What man has not found himself in a predicament such as Walter's? A place and time where a tank top is too informal, but a polo is overkill? The answer is: no man, except perhaps for George Clooney (and there is mounting evidence that he is a cyborg--see Appendix A).
This book is designed to help you obtain, organize, and fully utilize dress t-shirts. The truths are harsh, but the payoff is immeasurable. I'll be glad to hear your success stories (and believe me, a dress t-shirt is every man's secret to success), but due to the overwhelming number of responses I am sure to get, don't be offended if I don't respond to you personally. Please, use the information in this book for good and not evil. This is your guide into the glamorous world of...dress t-shirts.
4stories: Bent
The door slam echoed around him. Mitch froze. His lungs leaked air in a slow, steady wheeze until empty; his mouth worked the air like a fish pulled from the water. It was as though he'd forgotten how to breathe. A darkness--darker than closing his eyes or his bedroom in the dead of night--surrounded him and pressed in on him. Panic wrung the last of the oxygen from his lungs as his lips puckered in response.
Then, a hefty slap to his back caused Mitch to sputter and cough and finally, breathe.
"Here," hissed a voice next to his ear. Mitch felt something smooth and round being shoved into his hand and jumped. A shiver climbed his spine as the area around him began to glow. "A green orber. Hmmm..." the voice whispered again.
Mitch glanced behind him and saw a very tall and very thin man. His lanky looks didn't stop with his body and, in fact, were more pronounced in his face. With a chin and cheeks sharp enough to cut glass, Mitch wondered how his skin fit over his bones. Then, the thin man's mouth stretched into a grotesque smile revealing small childish teeth, all perfectly strain and abnormally white. Mitch stepped back, stepped away from this man--he wanted to run but had no where to run. He didn't even know where he was since he clearly was not in the cellar anymore. Or was he?
"Stop," Thin man said, the smile wiped from his face. His hand cut the air as he gestured behind Mitch, beyond the green glow. "Nevo is there. You don't want him to know you're here. He wouldn't like it."
"Who is Nevo? What are you doing in my cellar?"
"Shh. Nevo is the keeper and this isn't your cellar. But you already know that." The gruesome smile returned and he crooked his boney finger. "Come."
Mitch hesitated. He knew better than to go with strangers.
The thin man turned away. He walked with a see-saw motion towards the edge of the light. "You have nothing to return to, that is, if you could return." His hissing whisper turned into wheezing laughter.
Mitch held the orb in front of him and spun around in a slow careful circle. Nothing. As far as his eyes could see there was nothing but blackness. Sounds started emerging from around him--clicking, breathing and rustling.
Thin Man's disembodied head appeared in the ring of light. "You'd be better off with me than one of the others."
"Others?" Mitch asked, his voice timid and squeaky.
"Oh yes. They wait there for me to leave you." His hand came from the darkness and pointed behind Mitch. "Do you want me to leave you here then? Or will you come with me?"
He knew going with Thin Man was not a good idea but he was sure staying would be equally bad. The rustling and breathing around him had become louder almost drowning out the loud beating of Mitch's own racing heart.
He glanced around him one more time before walking into the darkness. Thin Man's raspy laughter echoed against the surroundings as the other noises settled into a hush. Mitch had made his choice. Now he had to live with it.
Friday, July 31, 2009
MFA Scholarship Essay for SHU
Here's my attempt at the scholarship essay question:
If I could have dinner with three people, living or dead, for the purpose of discussing my upcoming MFA degree at Seton Hill, I would choose Sylvia Plath, Ray Bradbury, and DH Lawrence. I’d like to meet Sylvia Plath, because I’m basing my thesis project on her poem, “The Thin People.” Many literary critics have conjectured about the meaning of the poem. Is it about women who want to be fashionably thin? Is it about television and media making our attention span short and thin? Or is it possibly about the people who were in interment camps in Nazi Germany? I would love to hear her interpretation of that poem (if she would care to tell me). I’d also like to meet the person behind the strong, gloomy and beautiful poems and short stories she wrote. I’d be curious to meet someone who, fifty years after her suicide, still has books and articles written about her life. Perhaps I’d like to reach out and help her to not commit suicide, tell her that if she hangs in there, things will get better.
Her command of language is an inspiration to me. And from her experience at Cambridge, Plath would know about the value of education. Plath was her own doppelganger: the society deb in evening gown and pearls who smiles out at us from those long-ago dinner party photos, and the bipolar, macabre surrealist who (shortly before her death by suicide) wrote the darkly beautiful book of poems, Ariel. I’d like to know what inspired her and what advice she would have for me.
While I was in grammar school, Ray Bradbury’s writing made me realize that magic exists. I’ll forever remember stories of a time machine safari, an April witch who inhabited the body of a young girl one fine spring night so she could experience the pleasures of love, a race of people who live for only ten days. He inspired me to write my first stories, which were at that time science fiction. Now everything I write is an attempt to capture the sinister enchantment I first felt in reading his stories. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could make my readers feel the same way? He transported me to other worlds and not just in physical location, but to a land of limitless possibilities.
Bradbury’s advice about developing a literary career would be invaluable to me. In his book, The Zen of Writing, he tells us that we have to do everything with excitement, do everything because we love it, to write about things that we either love or hate, grab the intensity and use it in our writing.
My third guest would be DH Lawrence because of the beauty of his prose. At an early age, his writing inspired me to love literature. What in his life caused him to have the outlook that love is everything? What inspired him to write Lady Chatterly’s Lover? What makes his writing so smooth and beautiful? To be able to evoke such emotion in the readers is my goal. I admire the intensity of Sons and Lovers, and I aspire to that level of emotional authenticity. Parts of his books are gritty and detail the lives of such persons as miners in the early 1900’s. He explores the every day emotional cruelty that people inflict on each other. The deep point of view he has of these characters is no doubt due to the area in which he grew up, but he writes about lords and ladies and lowly gamekeepers with the same sense of reality. I’d like to hear about what he encountered during his writing career, what he learned, what he would do differently.
Lastly, it would be interesting to see how they would interact at dinner? Would they all be reticent writers who don’t say much? Would one person dominate the conversation? Would Sylvia arrive in a shirtwaist dress and pearls? I think what they have in common is that writing wasn’t cerebral for any of them; it was a visceral experience that they all felt very deeply. I’d like to understand how they were all able to write with such power and passion.
If I could have dinner with three people, living or dead, for the purpose of discussing my upcoming MFA degree at Seton Hill, I would choose Sylvia Plath, Ray Bradbury, and DH Lawrence. I’d like to meet Sylvia Plath, because I’m basing my thesis project on her poem, “The Thin People.” Many literary critics have conjectured about the meaning of the poem. Is it about women who want to be fashionably thin? Is it about television and media making our attention span short and thin? Or is it possibly about the people who were in interment camps in Nazi Germany? I would love to hear her interpretation of that poem (if she would care to tell me). I’d also like to meet the person behind the strong, gloomy and beautiful poems and short stories she wrote. I’d be curious to meet someone who, fifty years after her suicide, still has books and articles written about her life. Perhaps I’d like to reach out and help her to not commit suicide, tell her that if she hangs in there, things will get better.
Her command of language is an inspiration to me. And from her experience at Cambridge, Plath would know about the value of education. Plath was her own doppelganger: the society deb in evening gown and pearls who smiles out at us from those long-ago dinner party photos, and the bipolar, macabre surrealist who (shortly before her death by suicide) wrote the darkly beautiful book of poems, Ariel. I’d like to know what inspired her and what advice she would have for me.
While I was in grammar school, Ray Bradbury’s writing made me realize that magic exists. I’ll forever remember stories of a time machine safari, an April witch who inhabited the body of a young girl one fine spring night so she could experience the pleasures of love, a race of people who live for only ten days. He inspired me to write my first stories, which were at that time science fiction. Now everything I write is an attempt to capture the sinister enchantment I first felt in reading his stories. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could make my readers feel the same way? He transported me to other worlds and not just in physical location, but to a land of limitless possibilities.
Bradbury’s advice about developing a literary career would be invaluable to me. In his book, The Zen of Writing, he tells us that we have to do everything with excitement, do everything because we love it, to write about things that we either love or hate, grab the intensity and use it in our writing.
My third guest would be DH Lawrence because of the beauty of his prose. At an early age, his writing inspired me to love literature. What in his life caused him to have the outlook that love is everything? What inspired him to write Lady Chatterly’s Lover? What makes his writing so smooth and beautiful? To be able to evoke such emotion in the readers is my goal. I admire the intensity of Sons and Lovers, and I aspire to that level of emotional authenticity. Parts of his books are gritty and detail the lives of such persons as miners in the early 1900’s. He explores the every day emotional cruelty that people inflict on each other. The deep point of view he has of these characters is no doubt due to the area in which he grew up, but he writes about lords and ladies and lowly gamekeepers with the same sense of reality. I’d like to hear about what he encountered during his writing career, what he learned, what he would do differently.
Lastly, it would be interesting to see how they would interact at dinner? Would they all be reticent writers who don’t say much? Would one person dominate the conversation? Would Sylvia arrive in a shirtwaist dress and pearls? I think what they have in common is that writing wasn’t cerebral for any of them; it was a visceral experience that they all felt very deeply. I’d like to understand how they were all able to write with such power and passion.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Book Review by Deanna Lepsch: Stalking Susan by Julie Kramer
I needed to do a little genre research on mysteries/suspense novels for my current writing project which is why I picked up Stalking Susan. My reasons for buying it are two-fold. I was attracted to the title immediately because I am fascinated with stalkers and as many of my friends, writing peers and family know, I tend to write Stalker fiction. My second reason--the book is set in Minneapolis, MN, where I currently make my home.
Riley Spatz, reporter for WCCO t.v. station in Minneapolis, receives a tip--2 cases show striking similarities. The most notable similarity is the shared first name of both victims and their murder date--exactly one year apart. Riley uses her on-air resources to attempt to lure the killer into revealing himself.
This is a unique perspective on the detective novel, using a reporter, though I imagine it reads in a similar fashion. I'm not overly familiar with the beats of an investigative mystery novel nor am I familiar with the conventions of the genre in general. I have a feeling that the pacing of the novel is very much part of mystery genre writing. I found it s bit choppy in places and the over explanation of the television business brought me out of the story on occasion.
That said, I did enjoy the book. The premise was interesting and, even though her killer was a little obvious, the why of his spree was equally interesting to the premise. Her next book Missing Mark is out in hard cover and this story sounds even more promising than her first.
I took from it a few lessons--don't over describe your industry, whatever it is, and impose setting without too much name dropping. Can you truly make your setting feel legitimate in your contemporary city without name dropping? Not sure, but since my novel also takes place in Minneapolis, I'm bound to find out.
I give this book my stamp of approval. Note: the book has all the awkward moments and over explaining of many first novels. I enjoyed the read and will look for her future novels.
~D
Check out Julie Kramer's website here: http://www.juliekramerbooks.com/
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Book Review by Sally Bosco: The End of Mr. Y by Scarlett Thomas
This is a review of a book I truly love and think others would appreciate, too.
I’m always drawn to stories about parallel dimensions, and for that reason, The End of Mr. Y by Scarlett Thomas really caught my attention. Though the book is categorized as mainstream literary, it very much has science fiction and fantasy elements. This mind-meld of physics, metaphysics and literature is one of the few books lately that I’ve read obsessively to the end.
The voice of the narrator, Ariel Manto, grabbed me right away. She is a thirty-something Ph.D. student with a dysfunctional family background and a penchant for kinky, self-destructive sex. She loves obscure literature and philosophy and is doing graduate work on a little-known author named Thomas E. Lumas. As luck would have it, one rainy day she runs across a book of his, The End of Mr.Y, which is supposedly cursed. Ariel snatches it up using her expense money for the entire month and holes up to read the Victorian-era missive in her seedy cold-water flat. Though she is fearful of the curse that promises death to anyone who reads the book, she very much relishes the danger. Thomas does a wonderful job of letting the quirky and witty Ariel gradually unfold for us as the story progresses.
Ariel has already proven that she has an addictive personality with her chain smoking and sexual compulsions, so, naturally when the book tells her how to enter an alternate dimension called the Troposphere, she jumps at the chance and right away becomes completely addicted to it, much to detriment of her life and physical body.
Through the Troposphere, Ariel is able to enter into the minds of other people and animals. During her first time in that parallel universe, she enters into the mind of a mouse that is caught in a trap beneath her kitchen sink. She gets in touch with its anguish and suffering and on her return to her normal dimension, immediately finds it under her sink and releases it into the wild. After that, she has quite a bit of empathy for the suffering of animals, which figures into the resolution of the plot later on.
Complications arise when she begins to be followed by a couple of CIA agents who intend to use the Troposphere for their own evil purposes, which will end up with the enslavement of mankind. Since Ariel knows about it, she’s a dead duck. Her love interest, a celibate ex-priest, who is the opposite of what you’d expect for the kinky Ariel, helps her out in her endeavors. The odd ending is anything but predictable.
I found Ariel’s theories about the origin and workings of the Troposphere fascinating, but I’m kind of an alternate-reality geek, so others might find it a bit tedious. In this book, the alternate reality functions very much like a video-game with a console that comes up at crucial decision times, but one could surmise that the alternate reality somehow speaks to each person in a way he/she can personally understand.
Thomas has a wonderful way with language. Some of my favorite quotes from the book are: "… the sky is the color of sad weddings." And as a book lover I could relate to this quote: "Real life is regularly running out of money, and then food. Real life is having no proper heating. Real life is physical. Give me books instead: Give me the invisibility of the contents of books, the thoughts, the ideas, the images. Let me become part of a book; I'd give anything for that."
The End of Mr. Y is truly imaginative and weaves interesting theory in with the narrative. This is a smart book that completely engages the emotions, senses and intellect. It is definitely one of my favorite books of the past few years.
Sally Bosco
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Great Tips for Great Writing
You've probably seen this before, but if not --
Some helpful rules for better writing:
1. Verbs HAS to agree with their subjects.
2. Prepositions are not words to end sentences with.
3. And don't start a sentence with a conjunction.
4. It is wrong to ever split an infinitive.
5. Avoid cliches like the plague. (They're old hat)
6. Comparisons are as bad as cliches.
7. Also, always avoid annoying alliteration.
8. Be more or less specific.
9. Parenthetical remarks (however relevant) are (usually) unnecessary.
10. Also too, never, ever use repetitive redundancies.
11. No sentence fragments.
12. Foreign words and phrases are not apropos.
13. Do not be redundant; do not use more words than necessary; it's highly superfluous.
14. One should NEVER generalize.
15. Don't use no double negatives.
16. One-word sentences? Eliminate.
17. Analogies in writing are like feathers on a snake.
18. The passive voice is to be ignored.
19. Never use a big word when a diminutive one would suffice.
20. Use words correctly, irregardless of how others use them.
21. Eliminate quotations. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "I hate quotations. Tell me what you know."
22. If you've heard it once, you've heard it a thousand times: Resist hyperbole; not one writer in a million can use it correctly.
from http://www.basicjokes.com/djoke.php?id=3065 (accessed July 14, 2009)
Some helpful rules for better writing:
1. Verbs HAS to agree with their subjects.
2. Prepositions are not words to end sentences with.
3. And don't start a sentence with a conjunction.
4. It is wrong to ever split an infinitive.
5. Avoid cliches like the plague. (They're old hat)
6. Comparisons are as bad as cliches.
7. Also, always avoid annoying alliteration.
8. Be more or less specific.
9. Parenthetical remarks (however relevant) are (usually) unnecessary.
10. Also too, never, ever use repetitive redundancies.
11. No sentence fragments.
12. Foreign words and phrases are not apropos.
13. Do not be redundant; do not use more words than necessary; it's highly superfluous.
14. One should NEVER generalize.
15. Don't use no double negatives.
16. One-word sentences? Eliminate.
17. Analogies in writing are like feathers on a snake.
18. The passive voice is to be ignored.
19. Never use a big word when a diminutive one would suffice.
20. Use words correctly, irregardless of how others use them.
21. Eliminate quotations. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "I hate quotations. Tell me what you know."
22. If you've heard it once, you've heard it a thousand times: Resist hyperbole; not one writer in a million can use it correctly.
from http://www.basicjokes.com/djoke.php?id=3065 (accessed July 14, 2009)
Monday, July 13, 2009
Writerly Reflections
So here I am, sitting in a restaurant in Manchester, NH, by myself and, with no one to talk to, I've come to a few realizations about my book.
The first was a small one--that I could write a story with a thriller aspect despite the fact that I don't really read thrillers or mysteries in general. Will it be easy? I imagine some aspects will be and others will be quite difficult. That is a challenge I want to take on and I will succeed.
My next realization makes sense but a part of me is crying a little inside. My beloved hero is going to have to be my creeper stalker guy. I would love to make him the love interest but he makes much more sense as a potential killer...now to figure out if he is too obvious as the threat.
My first day on my trip and I've been productive....not in pages, but in thought. Okay, so it's not as good as actual page count, but it's a start. Cut me some slack. I've been up since 3 am. I also discovered a few other things about my other characters and decided writing this book set in Minneapolis wouldn't be so bad after all. All in all, I'm pleased with my progress. Tomorrow, you can expect a page count.
~D
PS: I'm about 8 hours from DC. If someone would be willing to let me crash in their hotel room I would be willing to make the drive.....
The first was a small one--that I could write a story with a thriller aspect despite the fact that I don't really read thrillers or mysteries in general. Will it be easy? I imagine some aspects will be and others will be quite difficult. That is a challenge I want to take on and I will succeed.
My next realization makes sense but a part of me is crying a little inside. My beloved hero is going to have to be my creeper stalker guy. I would love to make him the love interest but he makes much more sense as a potential killer...now to figure out if he is too obvious as the threat.
My first day on my trip and I've been productive....not in pages, but in thought. Okay, so it's not as good as actual page count, but it's a start. Cut me some slack. I've been up since 3 am. I also discovered a few other things about my other characters and decided writing this book set in Minneapolis wouldn't be so bad after all. All in all, I'm pleased with my progress. Tomorrow, you can expect a page count.
~D
PS: I'm about 8 hours from DC. If someone would be willing to let me crash in their hotel room I would be willing to make the drive.....
Hey Wait...I Wrote This
You spend a long time writing a novel. You find an agent or you pitch directly to the publisher. You get your manuscript to the publisher and the editing process begins. Back and forth and you have to realize everyone's working to make this book as good as it can be. In a way, it's like the doctors taking your newborn child and changing his eye color because he looks better that way. Messing with creative integrity and all that.
Edits done, cover spec sheet finished, last run-through on a pdf version of your manuscript and a jpeg of your cover art. Yes, it looks fantastic. Then silence and you wait.
One day, you find a box by your front door and when you open it, you discover paperback versions of your manuscript, complete with the awesome cover art you had very little to do with. You open a copy and sniff the pages (yes, you do, you know you do) because somehow, after all this time, you can't believe you're holding your manuscript in book form. It's real. You flip through the book, recognizing those great phrases, those cool scenes, the wickedly fun characters. This is your baby come into reality.
There's part of the set-up. I've left out all the promotion and marketing you've done so that a million people know your book is available.
This past Saturday, I was at Sherlock's Books & Cafe's Craft and Musicfest (down in Galloway, NJ (20 minutes outside Atlantic City)), selling my two books, not unlike many fairs and cons where I've sold my book. As is customary, someone walks by, sees me, sees the book, and asks if I wrote it. I said yes and they made a comment about how impressive it is that I've got two published books when they didn't think they could even write one. They bought the book, I signed it and off they went.
There are more times than not, when I forget how incredible writers are, myself included. Here are people with the perseverance to not only sit down and write a book (or short story or novella), but to go back and edit it (again and again), then to submit it for someone else to see in hopes of publishing it so many more people will see it.
Because I love storytelling (my chosen method is the novel), it comes easy to me. Yes, writing can be laborious if you consider it work and not playing in your passion, but the end result, the moment we hold that finished manuscript and realize "I did this", we know it was all worth it. I know for some, writing is difficult, and at times, it is for me. There is so much to remember, both in the technical aspect of writing and also the craft. Characters, plot, tension, dialog...so many elements.
But all that stuff is for the revision process. The first draft for me, is pure fun. Watching the world come into being, watching characters become more than words on a page, watching places that don't exist become real...can you have more fun than that and still be legal? You have to be able to allow yourself a crappy first draft so that you can get it all down. I know, some will edit as they go, but for me, that path loses the spontaneity of creation. Also, I've known people who edit to death and never get beyond chapter one.
But I digress. It's easy for me to lose track of myself. I work full time, I'm married, with a house, a lawn, two cats, and all the things that make up being an "adult" in 21st Century America. So the writer part of me can get shoved aside without a second thought. But when I'm at a fair or a con selling my book or just talking writing with my fellow writers, that writer part is front and center and there's nothing more exhilarating than me saying to someone "Hey, take a look, I made this" and them holding my creation in their hands and saying, "Sure, I will" and they give me money, I give them a signature and off they go.
Now go write. There are a million stories waiting to be told.
Peace,Gary . . .
P.S.: Even more exhilarating than the sale? Having a reader write me and tell me that they loved the book, or, as one reader told me, he has mild dyslexia and hasn't enjoyed reading until he picked up my book and he couldn't wait to start on the next one.
Edits done, cover spec sheet finished, last run-through on a pdf version of your manuscript and a jpeg of your cover art. Yes, it looks fantastic. Then silence and you wait.
One day, you find a box by your front door and when you open it, you discover paperback versions of your manuscript, complete with the awesome cover art you had very little to do with. You open a copy and sniff the pages (yes, you do, you know you do) because somehow, after all this time, you can't believe you're holding your manuscript in book form. It's real. You flip through the book, recognizing those great phrases, those cool scenes, the wickedly fun characters. This is your baby come into reality.
There's part of the set-up. I've left out all the promotion and marketing you've done so that a million people know your book is available.
This past Saturday, I was at Sherlock's Books & Cafe's Craft and Musicfest (down in Galloway, NJ (20 minutes outside Atlantic City)), selling my two books, not unlike many fairs and cons where I've sold my book. As is customary, someone walks by, sees me, sees the book, and asks if I wrote it. I said yes and they made a comment about how impressive it is that I've got two published books when they didn't think they could even write one. They bought the book, I signed it and off they went.
There are more times than not, when I forget how incredible writers are, myself included. Here are people with the perseverance to not only sit down and write a book (or short story or novella), but to go back and edit it (again and again), then to submit it for someone else to see in hopes of publishing it so many more people will see it.
Because I love storytelling (my chosen method is the novel), it comes easy to me. Yes, writing can be laborious if you consider it work and not playing in your passion, but the end result, the moment we hold that finished manuscript and realize "I did this", we know it was all worth it. I know for some, writing is difficult, and at times, it is for me. There is so much to remember, both in the technical aspect of writing and also the craft. Characters, plot, tension, dialog...so many elements.
But all that stuff is for the revision process. The first draft for me, is pure fun. Watching the world come into being, watching characters become more than words on a page, watching places that don't exist become real...can you have more fun than that and still be legal? You have to be able to allow yourself a crappy first draft so that you can get it all down. I know, some will edit as they go, but for me, that path loses the spontaneity of creation. Also, I've known people who edit to death and never get beyond chapter one.
But I digress. It's easy for me to lose track of myself. I work full time, I'm married, with a house, a lawn, two cats, and all the things that make up being an "adult" in 21st Century America. So the writer part of me can get shoved aside without a second thought. But when I'm at a fair or a con selling my book or just talking writing with my fellow writers, that writer part is front and center and there's nothing more exhilarating than me saying to someone "Hey, take a look, I made this" and them holding my creation in their hands and saying, "Sure, I will" and they give me money, I give them a signature and off they go.
Now go write. There are a million stories waiting to be told.
Peace,Gary . . .
P.S.: Even more exhilarating than the sale? Having a reader write me and tell me that they loved the book, or, as one reader told me, he has mild dyslexia and hasn't enjoyed reading until he picked up my book and he couldn't wait to start on the next one.
A funny for Monday too...
Q: How many copy editors does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: I can't tell whether you mean "change a light bulb" or "have sex in a light bulb." Can we reword it to remove the ambiguity?
Q: How many editors does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Only one. But first they have to rewire the entire building.
Q: How many managing editors does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: You were supposed to have changed that light bulb last week!
Q: How many art directors does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Does it HAVE to be a light bulb?
Q: How many copy editors does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: The last time this question was asked, it involved art directors. Is the difference intentional? Should one or the other instance be changed? It seems inconsistent.
Q: How many marketing directors does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: It isn't too late to make this neon instead, is it?
Q: How many proofreaders does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Proofreaders aren't supposed to change light bulbs. They should just query them.
Q: How many writers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: But why do we have to CHANGE it?
Q: How many publishers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Three. One to screw it in, and two to hold down the author.
Q: How many booksellers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Only one, and they'll be glad to do it too, except no one shipped them any.
Q: How many agents does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: We're sorry to say your bulb doesn't meet our needs at this time.
A: I can't tell whether you mean "change a light bulb" or "have sex in a light bulb." Can we reword it to remove the ambiguity?
Q: How many editors does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Only one. But first they have to rewire the entire building.
Q: How many managing editors does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: You were supposed to have changed that light bulb last week!
Q: How many art directors does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Does it HAVE to be a light bulb?
Q: How many copy editors does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: The last time this question was asked, it involved art directors. Is the difference intentional? Should one or the other instance be changed? It seems inconsistent.
Q: How many marketing directors does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: It isn't too late to make this neon instead, is it?
Q: How many proofreaders does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Proofreaders aren't supposed to change light bulbs. They should just query them.
Q: How many writers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: But why do we have to CHANGE it?
Q: How many publishers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Three. One to screw it in, and two to hold down the author.
Q: How many booksellers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Only one, and they'll be glad to do it too, except no one shipped them any.
Q: How many agents does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: We're sorry to say your bulb doesn't meet our needs at this time.
From
http://nowantdecaf.blogspot.com/2007/11/bit-of-publishing-humor.html
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