Oh, the Horror!

A friend and fellow writer has turned her fiction endeavors toward horror, specifically short stories, and has proven to have an aptitude for the macabre. Several of her stories have been published, or are waiting publication, and in a genre she didn't expect.

I didn't expect to have an association with the horror genre, either, but have been volunteering as a submissions reader (slush reader) and a proofer for Fear and Trembling online magazine for almost two years. There was a call for help, and I signed on -- for the experience and the practice, if nothing else.

My friend's creativity was set free by exploring a new genre; I may read for it, but have yet to write anything frightening enough to make folks turn the page, let alone turn on all the lights.

However, this horror magazine gig has reinforced a few principles that seem tired to some writers who submit their work there -- principles so tired, in fact, that many of these writers feel no need to abide by them, things like "Show, don't tell," or "Learn to spell, dagnabbit!"

Actually, one thing that has been hammered into my skull after reading so many bad submissions is this: "Don't waste the reader's time."

In other words:

Get to the point.

Don't meander.

Don't load the beginning with the back story.

Don't be cute.

Don't try to appear lofty, intellectual, or literary.

Don't get so wrapped up in your style that you forget to tell the story.

Don't rely on gimmicks i.e. no gore for gore's sake.

Don't rely on foul language to make your characters tough or your fiction gritty. Any fool can cuss.

Skip the sentiment, and go straight to the heart. If you want readers to feel the love, show the love. If you want them to feel the fear, make them afraid.

Don't over-write; stop explaining. If you tell the story in a clear, concise manner, your readers are smart enough to understand it.

Keep your promises. Don't mislead readers into thinking they're getting one kind of story but you deliver another. If you introduce a plot element, follow through.

Don't use opening hooks that go nowhere. If you start with a bang, don't end with a whimper.

Tell the story first, and worry about the word count later. If you tell a good story, and you tell it well, editors are apt to ease that word limit to include excellent fiction in their publication. As Jerry Jenkins said in the quote I included in my previous post, "(A) good book can't be long enough for my taste. And a bad book can't be short enough."

Catching Up

Whew! Done at last. Episode 9 of my science fiction serial, Thieves' Honor, is now with my trusty pre-readers, who will make comments and suggestions, and find all those pesky invisible words that I could have sworn I typed but somehow never actually made it onto the page.

My dad came over tonight, and I sent him home with a copy of the first episode. He's not a science fiction fan, so he only wanted a fraction rather than the whole (ahem) pi. If he likes it, he'll come back for more.

Ideally, I'd have the next couple of episodes completed by now, too. If I remain in my current place of employment -- I'm sending out resumes -- June and July are going to be busy, the kind of busy that wrings me out, makes me fall asleep sitting upright, dinner half-eaten. But then there's a mandatory two-week break in August, and I live for those two weeks. Sad, huh?

------------------------------------------

Catching up on recent issues of writing magazines, I encountered the following that might be of use to other writers:

I start with the characters, and I just get to know them really, really well. I know what they think, fear and love, what motivates them, what they want. I think about them until I know how they would spend every day of their normal lives. Then I write the story about the day on which something different happens. In other words, some conflict, something comes into their life, you know, something new. - Lee Smith, The Writer, April 2009

Every good novel has two quests--what I call the Public Quest and Personal Quest. If your protagonist is an investigator, then his Public Quest is stopping the villain from doing evil. But he should also be fighting personal demons--guilt, grief, addictions, loneliness, etc.--and trying to be at a better place by the end of the Public Quest...It's this all-important Personal Quest where characters are fleshed out, where they re-examine their needs and desires, where they show their moral fiber and determination in conquering their demons. It's also where they earn our respect and prove their heroics. - Gary Braver, The Writer, April 2009

Making people believe the unbelievable is no trick; it's work. And I think Jerry would agree that belief and reader absorption come in the details: An overturned tricycle in the gutter of an abandoned neighborhood can stand for everything. - Stephen King, Writer's Digest, May/June 2009

I hope my writing has become more spare and direct over the years. The longer I write, the less patient I am with needless words...That said, a good book can't be long enough for my taste. And a bad book can't be short enough. - Jerry Jenkins, Writer's Digest, May/June 2009

M.I.A.

Due to other life matters, I didn't post an entry for Day 3 of the May CSSF Blog Tour for Tuck by Stephen R. Lawhead. Work has occupied me, and the next episode of Thieves' Honor needs to be completed and turned in ASAP, and I just forgot about the blog.

I'll be back later this week. Meantime, happy writing!

Tuck by Stephen R. Lawhead - Day 2

As a reader of adventure tales, I've enjoyed the King Raven Trilogy by Stephen R. Lawhead, the final book of which is Tuck, the subject of this month's Christian Science Fiction & Fantasy Blog Tour.

I grew up on Robin Hood tales, and there is a sense of childhood returned when I read or view a version of the legend, even when the version darkens the myth. Some reviews of Lawhead's trilogy have mentioned that darkness, and some have expressed dislike for the changes in Rhi Bran ap Brychan's (Robin's) character in the final book.

In the first book, Hood, he loses family and kingdom, and begins the struggle to win back his land; in Scarlet and in Tuck, the struggle continues, often with disheartening results, but rarely is anything worth winning obtained without struggle, or quickly, and rarely does one engaged in the endeavor emerge unchanged.

So, while some readers lost sympathy for Bran, I identified with his frustration, especially when he freed a king who was also a kinsman, and that man -- who owed a great debt -- did not repay it with anything stronger than words. It's odd, to me, that characters I seem to understand the most in their irritations, frustrations, or thwarted purposes, other readers view as arrogant or always angry. Don't know what that says about me. Bran isn't always the politest or most politick person, except when he's laying a trap. Among friends, he lets loose his true emotion, even if it is ugly. Rather than seeing that as a compliment, as a sign of trust, characters in the story react as real people might, and either respond with anger of their own, or with fear or contrition. Sometimes, I think, we expect heroes or friends to behave perfectly, to never lose their tempers or feel strong emotion, to never speak harshly, to always listen patiently and always agree with us. Is that not true arrogance?

But this review is supposed to be about the book itself, much of which is told through the point of view of Friar Tuck (Brother Aethelfrith) as he aids Bran and the Grellon (a more down-to-earth lot than the Merry Men of other tales) in the fight to regain their land and Bran's crown. I like the fact that Tuck's faith is a matter of course. There is no heavy-handed prosyletizing, no lengthy sermons, just an everyday faith that is so woven into the fabric of Tuck's life that it is a natural part of his speech and actions.

This is not to say that he doesn't participate in his share of the fighting! He wouldn't be Tuck if he didn't crack a few crowns and thwack any opponent who happened to be at hand.

Tuck turns the story in interesting directions, some opposite what they were at the end of Scarlet, and gathers in another legendary character, Alan a'Dale, minstrel, to join Robin Hood (Rhi Bran y Hud), Little John (Iwan), Will Scatlocke/Scarlet, Friar Tuck, and the infamous Marshal Guy of Gysburne. It's been like a game, seeing how Lawhead would incorporate old and new in his version of the legend, and I enjoyed watching for the familiar characters to make their appearances in the story.

As for the aforementioned darkness, perhaps it didn't strike me as so radical a way to tell the tale because, to this day, I recall the chapters in Howard Pyle's The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood that kept me on the edge of my seat, or made me fear and sweat and wonder how Robin or his men would get out of this predicament. One in particular -- "Will Stutely Rescued by his Good Companions" -- tells how Robin sends sly Will to spy on the Sheriff's men, but Will is caught and sentenced to the gallows. (Hmmm. This sounds a lot like the plot of Scarlet! Perhaps that's why I like that book the best of the trilogy.) Then there are the last chapters of HP's book, full of goodbyes and melancholy, and the death of Robin in the presence of Little John, which bears a resemblance to the Old Testament story of the death of Elisha.

The picture (right) is of the cover of my tattered but beloved copy of HP's telling of the legend. In fact, I waxed so nostalgic the other night that I found a copy of this edition for sale online, and bought it. Always good to have a backup!

For other opinions and reviews of Tuck, visit these stops along the tour:

Brandon Barr
Jim Black
Keanan Brand
Rachel Briard
Grace Bridges
Valerie Comer
Amy Cruson
CSFF Blog Tour
Stacey Dale
D. G. D. Davidson
Jeff Draper
April Erwin
Karina Fabian
Alex Field
Beth Goddard
Todd Michael Greene
Ryan Heart
Timothy Hicks
Christopher Hopper
Joleen Howell
Becky Jesse
Cris Jesse
Jason Joyner
Kait
Carol Keen
Krystine Kercher
Dawn King
Terri Main
Margaret
Melissa Meeks
Rebecca LuElla Miller
Caleb Newell
Eve Nielsen
Nissa
John W. Otte
John Ottinger
Epic Rat
Steve Rice
Crista Richey
Hanna Sandvig
Chawna Schroeder
James Somers
Robert Treskillard
Rachel Starr Thomson
Steve Trower
Speculative Faith
Fred Warren
Phyllis Wheeler
Jill Williamson

Tuck by Stephen R. Lawhead - Day 1

The May entry in the Christian Science Fiction & Fantasy Blog Tour is Tuck, third in the King Raven Trilogy by Stephen R. Lawhead, retelling the Robin Hood legend.

Hood begins the saga, telling how Bran ap Brychan becomes Rhi Bran y Hud (Robin Hood); Scarlet recounts how Will Scarlet joins the band, is imprisoned, and tells his tale to Brother Odo, a monk with a secret desire for adventure; and Tuck continues the exploits of the outlaw band by presenting much of the story from Brother Aethelfrith's (Friar Tuck's) point of view, and introduces Alan a'Dale.

Confession: Scarlet is my favorite of the three, but each one is a solid entry in the series.

I pre-ordered Tuck late last year, before I knew it was on the list of upcoming tour items. However, as I have a stack of reading material -- some required, some pleasure -- that is literally three feet tall, Tuck wasn't read until late April. It's an entertaining adventure, and I wish I could have read it earlier.

I'll discuss the book further over the next couple of days, and compare it to my first encounter with the written form of the Robin Hood legend, the version by Howard Pyle that my father used to read to me and my brother. The volume is tattered and faded now, and in need of spinal repairs, but the elaborate illustrations are still vibrant and the language still enticing to the imagination.

For other views, please check out these other stops on the tour:

Brandon Barr
Jim Black
Keanan Brand
Rachel Briard
Grace Bridges
Valerie Comer
Amy Cruson
CSFF Blog Tour
Stacey Dale
D. G. D. Davidson
Jeff Draper
April Erwin
Karina Fabian
Alex Field
Beth Goddard
Todd Michael Greene
Ryan Heart
Timothy Hicks
Christopher Hopper
Joleen Howell
Becky Jesse
Cris Jesse
Jason Joyner
Kait
Carol Keen
Krystine Kercher
Dawn King
Terri Main
Margaret
Melissa Meeks
Rebecca LuElla Miller
Caleb Newell
Eve Nielsen
Nissa
John W. Otte
John Ottinger
Epic Rat
Steve Rice
Crista Richey
Hanna Sandvig
Chawna Schroeder
James Somers
Robert Treskillard
Rachel Starr Thomson
Steve Trower
Speculative Faith
Fred Warren
Phyllis Wheeler
Jill Williamson

Waiting

My mind elsewhere, I cast a glance at a bookshelf, and a row of books jolted me into another track. The titles are research books for a story I want to write -- have wanted to write for fifteen years, maybe twenty -- set during The Great War (WWI). I've purchased histories, volumes of letters or diaries of soldiers, spent a lot of money on the background material, but I haven't made notes or written any scenes for that story in maybe five years. Yet it lurks on the edges of my imagination.

This tale may not come to fruition until I'm a couple decades older. Maybe it'll never be told.

Do you have a story that hasn't found its time?

In Praise of My Lawn Mower

Aside from entering the house and depositing my bag of writing gear on a chair, one of the first things I did upon arriving home from work last night was mow the yard. A day and a half had passed without rain, leaving the backyard less squishy, just firm enough to run the reel mower through the thick green grass in the swamp that is the lower half of the property.

I really like the reel mower. (Groan all you like, I do not apologize for the pun.) When I was a kid, an old-fashioned motor-less mower with four or five blades was called a push mower, but now that term is reserved for gas-powered mowers that aren't riding mowers or tractors. Whatever. Reel mower sounds a little silly to me, though it's apt in describing the configuration of the blades.

Anyhoo. So, I hauled the mower out from the cubby under the house, and blitzed through the postage-stamp front yard, cut a swath along one side of the house (the other side of the yard is clay and tends to grow tree seedlings, but little else), and then hacked through the swampy jungle in the back. After all the branches the mower consumed, I might have to sharpen the blades next time. However, I kept to a steady and quick walk, finished mowing the property in an hour, and wasn't nearly as tired as I would have been had I tried to move so quickly with a gas-powered mower.

Reasons I like my reel mower:

1) It's lightweight, and easy to maneuver.

2) No gas.

3) No spark plug, choke, air filter, et cetera.

4) No spitting of rocks or branches at blinding, limb-severing speeds.

5) It's quiet; I can mow at dark-thirty, if I so desire.

6) My old shoulder / neck injury isn't an issue.

7) The mower's easy to store, and to maintain.

8) It starts every time.

9) It makes the neighbors scratch their heads.

10) It's just downright cool!

Opening Salvos - Part 2

Okay. This next candidate for "Renovations by Keanan" will probably elicit negative reactions, but I'm gonna do it anyway.

Reminder: All books in the "Opening Salvos" series of posts are ones that I own. If I own a book, that generally means I like it.

The second entry concerns Hugo-nominated science fiction novel, Old Man's War by John Scalzi (check out his blog here).

(ducking to avoid any missiles hurled at my head)

Mr. Scalzi has written many published books, and my books are still only in manuscript form (or in progress via serial), but my examination of opening pages of published literature is an exercise in improving craft. If it helps another writer, great. If it irritates, well, tough!

The book opens thus:

I did two things on my seventy-fifth birthday. I visited my wife's grave. Then I joined the army.

Visiting Kathy's grave was the less dramatic of the two. She's buried in Harris Creek Cemetery, not more than a mile down the road from where I live and where we raised our family. Getting her into the cemetery was more difficult than perhaps it should have been; neither of us expected needing the burial, so neither of us made the arrangements. It's somewhat mortifying, to use a rather apt word, to have to argue with a cemetery manager about your wife not having made a reservation to be buried. Eventually my son, Charlie, who happens to be mayor, cracked a few heads and got the plot. Being the father of the mayor has its advantages.

So, the grave. Simple and unremarkable, with one of those small markers instead of a big headstone. As a contrast, Kathy lies next to Sandra Cain, whose rather oversized headstone is polished black granite, with Sandy's high school photo and some maudlin quote from Keats about the death of youth and beauty sandblasted into the front. That's Sandy all over. It would have amused Kathy to know Sandra was parked next to her with her big dramatic headstone; all their lives Sandy nurtured an entertainingly passive-aggressive competition with her. Kathy would come to the local bake sale with a pie, Sandy would bring three and simmer, not so subtly, if Kathy's pie sold first. Kathy would attempt to solve the problem by preemptively buying one of Sandy's pies. It's hard to say whether this actually made things better or worse, from Sandy's point of view.

Great opening paragraph, but then the sentences tend toward awkwardness, and the writing suffers from Really-Rather-Much Syndrome, a common writing malady in which unnecessary words abound, words such as really, rather, much, somewhat, and their relatives.

I like details. I like humor, contrasts, and insights into characters, main or secondary. I also like to get to the point.

So, if I had been Master of the Red Pencil, this is what I might have suggested:

I did two things on my seventy-fifth birthday. I visited my wife's grave. Then I joined the army.

Kathy's buried in Harris Creek Cemetery, not more than a mile down the road from where I live and where we raised our family. Neither of us expected needing the burial, so neither of us made the arrangements, but my son, Charlie, happens to be mayor. He cracked a few heads; I got the plot.

So, the grave. It has one of those small markers, but Kathy lies next to Sandra Cain, whose oversized headstone is polished black granite, with Sandy's high school photo and some maudlin quote from Keats about the death of youth and beauty sandblasted into the front. That's Sandy all over. It would have amused Kathy to know Sandra was parked next to her with that big dramatic monument. All their lives, Sandy nurtured an entertaining passive-aggressive competition with her. Kathy would come to the local bake sale with a pie; Sandy would bring three. If Kathy's pie sold first, she'd buy one of Sandy's. It's hard to say whether this actually made things better or worse, from Sandy's point of view.

279 published words - 194 suggested words = 85-word weight loss, and a trimmer, cleaner beginning to an interesting story that is less bloated than these paragraphs might imply, and is more in line with the personality of the main character.

Comments or contentions, anyone?

Opening Salvos, Part One

Recent posts have briefly discussed beginnings and endings, and adverbs, adjectives and gerunds. This post is the first in a series that looks at the opening paragraphs of published books, and presents possible ways they could have been tightened, and thus made stronger or more active. Of course, the suggestions are from one person's perspective -- mine -- but I welcome discussion.

Note: I own copies of the books I will discuss, and enjoyed reading each one. That needs to be said, lest this series seem to smack of anything snarky. I have learned much from this exercise, a study in the craft of writing, and hope others will, too.

First, a version of the Robin Hood legend from the point of view of the Sheriff of Nottingham, In a Dark Wood by Michael Cadnum, begins thus:

The forest was quiet. Everything that was about to happen was far away, through the trees.

Geoffrey stood still, staring straight ahead, although he could see nothing but trembling patches of sunlight on the fallen leaves. A forest was like night. It was a different world, and everything a man was afraid of lived there, afraid of nothing.

The boar spear was a long, heavy weapon, and this particular spear had never been used before. Its head was slender and very sharp, and the cross-piece midway down the shaft was gleaming black. Geoffrey found a new grip on the spear, the iron cold where he had not touched it, and the horns of the beaters, and their cries, filtered through the trees, bright curls of sounds, like shavings on a goldsmith's bench.

Between them and where he stood was the most dangerous kind of beast. It could feel no pain. Its eyes were fire pricks. It weighed more than three men.

And it was coming his way.

Okay, so what's weak about this beginning? It mingles description with action, and it's intriguing -- excellent -- but is also has eleven uses of was and one use of were, passive verbs in an otherwise tense scene. Passive verbs have their place, and can be poetic, as evidenced in the above passage, but they should be used sparingly.

Filtered is a cliched, too-modern word in this usage, and coming is weak. Very could be eliminated, as could this particular spear, if the sentence were reconstructed. Perhaps this is too spare, too direct, compared to the structure above, but it's my take on the same information:

New-forged, the boar spear -- a long, heavy weapon, its head slender and sharp -- had never been used, and the cross-piece gleamed black midway down the shaft.

I would have replaced filtered with echoed or drifted or rang, or something in keeping with "bright curls of sound" or the image of gold.

As for coming, what stronger word(s) might take its place, and thus evoke the image of a wild boar about to have its way with a mere human silly enough to hunt it down: running, charging, snorting, pawing, grunting, leaping, hurtling, et cetera?

Next post: a look at the opening paragraphs of a popular science fiction novel, a finalist for the Hugo. I'll catch sacrilege for that one, but I can take it!

Adverbs and Other Descriptors, Part 2

Go to almost any writers conference, seminar, class, discussion, critique, or retreat, and you'll likely hear someone--either a speaker or a fellow attendee--warn against the use of adverbs, adjectives, or gerunds.

Now, go to the bookstore, pick up almost any book, and what will you find? Adverbs, adjectives, and gerunds.

Much like the pirate code in Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, literary rules are not so much laws as they are guidelines. There is a difference between what authors are told is acceptable versus what's actually published--did you catch that adverb?--so what's a writer to do? Are editors and agents just being paranoid or snobbish about this stuff?

Yes, and no.

We should be careful with what we put on the page, in the sense that we want our work to grab readers, to be fresh/original/inimitable (look! a list of three adjectives!), but words are there to be used, and there is a difference between "walked slowly" and "walked quickly", and sometimes ran, skipped, leaped, jogged, strode, ambled, strolled, meandered, or myriad other descriptors don't convey the actual moment the way we see it in our minds.

A great way to describe reluctance, for instance, is to tell us how a character acted; if he did so "slowly", then we have an obligation to say so.

On the other hand, as an advocate for non-lazy writing, I like to use strong, punchy verbs wherever possible. As a poet, however, I understand the importance of cadence, that sometimes sound and pacing are just as important as the idea itself, and can enhance that idea.

Like one gone mad I hugged the ground;
I raised my quivering arms on high;
I laughed and laughed into the sky,
Till at my throat a strangling sob
Caught fiercely, and a great heart-throb
Sent instant tears into my eyes;
O God, I cried, no dark disguise
Can e'er hereafter hide from me
Thy radiant identity!
Thou canst not move across the grass
But my quick eyes will see Thee pass,
Nor speak, however silently,
But my hushed voice will answer Thee.
I know the path that tells Thy way
Through the cool eve of every day;
God, I can push the grass apart
And lay my finger on Thy heart!

(excerpt from Renascence by Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1892-1950)

Renascence launched Millay's literary career, but one might argue that it is old fashioned and has no place in this discussion. After all, as the words in bold type can testify, it breaks the modern guideline of No Adverbs, No Adjectives, No Gerunds.

On the other hand, if a writer avoids over-using descriptors, his writing will gain punch. Or, in the words of Mark Twain, "You need not expect to get your book right the first time. Go to work and revamp or rewrite it. God only exhibits his thunder and lightning at intervals, and so they always command attention. These are God's adjectives. You thunder and lightning too much; the reader ceases to get under the bed, by and by." - Letter to Orion Clemens, 3/23/1878

Adverbs and Other Descriptors, Part 1

Below is a re-post of a blog entry originally published July 13, 2007. It returned to mind after a recent conversation with a fellow writer as we discussed revisions of our own work, and our frustrations with newer writers who say they want our help but then act defensive, and refuse to heed the very advice they solicited. Then there are writers, new and experienced, who are so bound by rules that they miss the story. Therefore, I present an almost-defense of reviled words.

I adore adverbs; they are the only qualifications I really much respect. -Henry James

I quit using adjectives and adverbs as if sheer numbers would make a difference. -Terry Brooks

The road to hell is paved with adverbs. -Stephen King

I am dead to adverbs; they cannot excite me. To misplace an adverb is a thing which I am able to do with frozen indifference; it can never give me a pang. ... There are subtleties which I cannot master at all,--they confuse me, they mean absolutely nothing to me,--and this adverb plague is one of them. ... Yes, there are things which we cannot learn, and there is no use in fretting about it. I cannot learn adverbs; and what is more I won't.

-Mark Twain, "Reply to a Boston Girl," Atlantic Monthly, June 1880

Ah, the adverb. Even when it's being reviled, it's still in use. The adverb, like the adjective, is a word used to describe something else; an adverb usually describes a verb, though an adverb can sometimes occupy the place of an adjective, and does not always end in -ly. In this case, "usually" is the adverb, and "describes" is the verb.

We use adverbs, adjectives, and gerunds (-ing words) all the time in our everyday speech. Why, then, are they anathema in modern writing? And should we toss them out altogether?

Sometimes, those adverbs and adjectives are just what we need. Sometimes, we need to seek just the right descriptor in order to make an action or a feature distinct. After all, if a reader does not know how an old cowboy walks to the corral, we present only flat action when we write, "The old cowboy walked to the corral."

However, if we describe how he walks, we make the scene come alive: "Legs as bowed as the twin lines guarding his smile, he hobbled down from the porch and crossed the hard-packed yard with tilting steps, each one placed with care, the outer edges of his soles worn flat from years of walking as if he still gripped the barrel of a horse between his knees."

Yeah, okay, so that sentence isn't exactly crisp, but does it need to be? Can you see this man walking to the corral? Could the same effect be achieved without any description?

Leave out all the adverbs, adjectives, and gerunds, and what do you have? "He hobbled from the porch and crossed the yard." That may be all you want, all you need to say. If so, more power to ya. After all, sometimes brief action is the only transition required; and, if you've shown the reader once how this character walked, having him hobble may be the only thing necessary to move the story along.

In English we must use adjectives to distinguish the different kinds of love for which the ancients had distinct names. -Mortimer Adler.

- to be continued -

Serial, Please. Hold the Milk.

Wednesday night, after a month or more of wrestling 5,000 words into a decent story (and then scrapping half those words in order to write a new version of them), I turned in Episode 8 -- "Endgame, Part 1" -- of Thieves' Honor, my science fiction serial for Ray Gun Revival.

"Endgame" is nothing original, as far as titles go, but titles are not my strongest skill. Sometimes, ya gotta go with what works, not necessarily what's flashy.

This experience -- writing a serial -- has given me a renewed appreciation for the old-fashioned "hacks" who churned out story after story, and on a deadline. Check out the magazine, though, for the entertaining stories by non-hacks. Good stuff.

Hats off to Johne Cook, an Overlord at RGR, for the pointing readers to Disney: Animated Spoof of '50s Pulp Science Fiction, a YouTube humorous gem of a jab at a beloved genre. Had me laughing all the way through, which is an all-too-brief three minutes and a half.

A Look at a Working Writer's Process! over at Alexander Field's blog, The Mystery & the Magic, features a video clip of Jeffrey Archer discussing how he schedules his writing days (and they ARE scheduled). I left this comment in response:

I don't know if I could be so regimented, because I write when I can, and I've sat/stood/paced for hours, willing the words to come, and they don't. I've written just plain awful pages, waiting for words to come, and they don't. Then, sometimes, in the middle of some other activity (work, for instance!), I'll have to stop and scribble down all the ideas pouring from my brain to my pen.

I do agree with Archer, though, in how hard this writing gig can be. A teenage Club kid who's moved across state has been e-mailing me this past week, and telling me about his latest writing endeavor. This one he likes, he said, because it's coming so easy. I had to tell him that, if he wants to be a writer, he's going to have to expect and be prepared for the dry spells, when every word is agony. How's that for encouraging a newbie?

But he has talent, and I told him I'd like to read his work when it's finished. When I was in elementary and junior high, if it weren't for the teacher and the older writers who praised what was good and pointed out what was bad, I don't know if I'd be writing today. God bless 'em.

As a young writer -- youthful in age as well as experience -- I did not take criticism well. If there were flaws pointed out, well, that meant the story had to be scrapped. Flaws also meant I was fooling myself, and that I could not possibly ever be a writer. I was doomed. Doomed!

That's hormones and angst for you, as well as a more-than-generous dose of teenage insecurity.

To tell the truth, in the writing life, the insecurity never quite leaves. Oh, there are times we can swagger and talk big, and believe we're God's best gift to literature, but then there are the dark wells of doubt that seem to tunnel forever into our souls, and-- You get the picture.

Maybe the cure for the writer's curse of the braggadocio-then-despair rollercoaster is the work itself, the act of putting words on paper.

Alrighty then. (sitting at keyboard, flexing fingers, stretching arms) Serial, please. Hold the milk.

Daily Fix

This must be how an addict feels: Anxious, edgy, the world just off-kilter enough to make him feel like an outsider, and then, when he finally gets the fix, ahhhhh.

Anxiety? What anxiety? Dude, it's all bliss and haze in here.

No, I'm not on hallucinogens, not drunk, not smoking something. I edited a paragraph.

Yep, you read me right. Edited. A paragraph.

I deleted a phrase. Ooh, that's good stuff. I rearranged a sentence. Getting better. I tossed out a word, inserted a dependent clause, and replaced a weak image with a strong visual. Wow. Psychedelic, man.

All the collected tension of a busy afternoon and evening just drifted away like curls of smoke.

Hello. My name is Keanan Brand. I'm a verbaholic.