IT ALL STARTS WITH A GREAT SENTENCE

By El Ochiis

You think you care about what a book is about, but, really, you care how it sounds, even if that sound can only be heard in your head.

Words are lyrics for the eyes – a line of words where logic and rhythm meet. Good sentences should be as lucid and sincere as good cooking. Even people who can’t boil water for soup will find pleasure in reading this line from a recipe: Warm two tablespoons of olive oil in a pan, then add the sliced onion. The verdict in the following sentence sounds fairer and truer in a way that those in life rarely are: Yesterday’s bread has less moisture and so makes crisper toast. Good writing is clean, full of flavor and a meal in itself.

Great sentences give a start to the beginnings of superb paragraphs which flows into extraordinary chapters, culminating to exceptional stories - a memorable sentence makes immediate sense but sounds just slightly odd:

A screaming comes across the sky. -Thomas Pynchon, Gravity's Rainbow (1973)

The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new. -Samuel Beckett, Murphy (1938)

Every summer Lin Kong returned to Goose Village to divorce his wife, Shuyu. -Ha Jin, Waiting (1999)

Life is to be lived, not controlled; and humanity is won by continuing to play in face of certain defeat. -Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man (1952)

There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it. -C. S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (1952)

We started dying before the snow, and like the snow, we continued to fall. -Louise Erdrich, Tracks (1988

We were the people who were not in the papers. We lived in the blank white spaces at the edges of print. It gave us more freedom. We lived in the gaps between the stories. - Margaret Atwood The Handmaid’s Tale (1985)

Orwell advised cutting as many words as possible, Woolf found energy in verbs, and Baldwin aimed for ‘a sentence as clean as a bone.’ Though some of this is true, none of it is a good way of learning how to write a sentence. More ethical demand than useful advice, it forces writers back to their own reserves of wisdom and authenticity. It blames bad writing on laziness and dishonesty, when a likelier culprit is lack of skill. If someone were to order me to make a soufflé, all I could come up with would be a gloopy, inedible mess – not because I am languid or untruthful, but because, although I have some vague idea that it needs eggs, milk, flour and a lot of beating, I don’t know how to make a soufflé.

A good sentence imposes a logic on the world’s weirdness, getting power from the tension between the ease of its phrasing and the shock of its thought as it slides cleanly into the mind and as it proceeds, is a paring away of options. Each added word, because of the English language’s dependence on word order, reduces the writer’s alternatives and narrows the reader’s expectations. But even up to the last word the writer has choices and can throw in a curveball. A sentence can begin in one place and end in another galaxy, without breaking a single syntactic rule.

Can you give your readers something that’s illuminating and cherishable, all on its own as American writer, Gary Lutz once lectured, because "Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it yet.”? -L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables. When you get sentences right, everything else solves itself or ceases to matter.

INNER CONFLICT

By Sharon Ewing

I’d been introduced to the works of famous authors throughout my educational career and while I loved to journal, never identified as a writer. All the authors I knew were famous people. How smug to even place myself anywhere near the company of these renown men and women.

But what about those of us who maybe never aspired to be famous; those who simply feel compelled to record our thoughts, our memories, our stories that maybe no one will ever read? I began a diary in my teens and have a stack of journals I’ve kept through the years that attest to my passion for writing. Yet, I’m only now getting used to the idea that this fervor for the written word means I am an author.

A few years ago, a fellow parishioner stopped me and commented on an article I’d had published.

“I didn’t know you were a writer,” she said.

I almost said. “I’m not.” Instead, I smiled and thanked her for her kind comments. I just thought of myself as being lucky, not as being good enough to be called a writer.

Despite my poor self-concept, I continued writing; still journaling, memoir items, inspirational, short stories. I couldn’t help myself. I needed the written outlet to feel complete and finally was forced to admit my addiction, albeit a good one. The problem wasn’t with my passion, my heart, my love of writing. It was in my head. My heart and head were in conflict and the only way I could change it was with self-talk.

That’s proving harder than anything I’ve attempted to write. “You are a writer.” I say this as I sit at the computer. “You can be a good one and will be one day.”

So, like everyone else who writes, I have those days when my fingers seem to fly across the keyboard and I become so engrossed in the story that I become one with it. Unfortunately, I have more of the days when I’m convinced that even if my story is ever complete, no one will want to waste a minute reading it. That’s when my head takes over and refuses to listen to my heart.

Maybe I also need to stack my journals nearby so I can see the passion that led me to record my thoughts for years on end while working, raising children, and keeping house. Whatever it takes, I find that I need to stoke the embers of passion each time I sit at the computer, bringing heart and head together, even letting the heart have a handicap out of the gate.

I am a writer.

WHY WRITE?

By Sharon May

I see writers on Facebook ask why we decided to write. Most answers are meant to be humorous. Serious responses tend to be cryptic statements about muses and speaking one’s truth. So what makes us get on the creative rollercoaster we call writing?

Many writers are motivated by money as some are trying to supplement their incomes, others want to make a living, and others expect a fortune from publishing and marketing their writing.

I guess most can successfully pad their bank accounts. I made several thousand for several years after publishing with four other authors a Freshman composition textbook. For those who need to make a living or a fortune, I commend you since there are much easier and reliable ways to make money. I think we determined that “our hourly wage” for the textbook was less than a dollar.

Fame or at least a stroke of the ego in having their work published motivates some of us. I admit there is a thrill and a sense of accomplishment when seeing our name on a book cover. How much fame writers have is severely limited by a society that doesn’t truly value Art. That printed book or internet post may exist long after we are dead, and posthumous recognition can still come. Don’t know if dead authors can know that kind of fame.

External rewards, like fame and fortune, might be earned, but most of us must write for more intrinsic reasons. Do we awaken one day and say “I’m going to be a writer”? Maybe, but more than likely, we toss the idea around as we read books that spark a drive to create a book of our own. We desire to see if we can sustain that drive to finish something bigger than we are.

The love of playing with words motivates many of us. Amy Tan claims she can spend hours working with a single word or sentence to make the best choice she can. One the other hand, we love when the words come easily, like manna from heaven, as we sit for hours without awareness of the world around us. The feeling of satisfaction comes from our struggles and our triumphs in trying to create meaning out of the words we choose.

Writing can be a calling, either from one’s own soul or from an external creator or muse. This calling can be tough to fulfill as we try to find the time in our lives to write while we finish educations, hold down jobs, care for family. But once we make time for writing, the act and process can bring joy.

I am motivated by all these reasons, but let’s not forget that writing is fun. Yes, that task that haunts us, that consumes our time and energy, is fun. We play while escaping or revealing the world we inhabit. Fun is the immediate gratification. Enjoy it because the other goals may not appear for years, if at all.

THE SWEET INDULGENCE of MAGNETIC WRITING

By Kasie Whitener

My addiction to romance novels is well established. I read over 100 per year, mostly through Kindle Unlimited, all unapologetically shallow. I call them “candy.”

Some of the books alternate character point-of-view and the voice is so generic I lose track of who’s speaking. Yeah, they’re not exactly literary fiction.

What they do have is magnetism.

Magnetism is compulsion. Characters drawn together, excited by one another, a sense of urgency, need, and passion. These books must establish magnetism. It’s expected of them. Romance readers want characters drawn together, kept apart, and then united in something steamy and fulfilling.

Magnetism also has me choosing to read this book instead of doing anything else. Magnetism has me desperate for one more chapter long after midnight.

One hundred romance novels later and I know (I know!) there are a million reasons not to download the next book in the series. Award-winning books. Literary fiction that is changing the landscape of the craft. Elevating language, diving into unheard narratives. Just waiting to change me with empathy and craft.

And yet, I go for the candy. Like a junky.

This year I put myself on a diet. I took 12 books off my shelf and challenged myself to read one per month. Award-winning books like Pachinko, important books like The Sympathizer. Literary books. Top-of-the-craft books.

Since January, I’ve finished 10 romance novels, three fantasy fiction, and three books on my Off the Shelf list. Three months into 2021 and I’m 16 books in, which is good, and maybe the diet is working because by this time last year I’d finished 22 romance novels. At this pace, I’ll only finish 40 this year instead of 100.

And just typing that sends me into withdrawal.

What is it about romance? It’s the magnetism. I don’t write romance novels. There’s some love, some sex, in my books. But I’m not writing romance. There’s not usually a Happily Ever After. In my books, what “ever after” there is has been hard won.

But the magnetism. I want characters drawn to one another in that romance-y way. I want them to push one another, test one another, twist each other up and let go. Let. Go. And I want readers to feel the same way. Like they can’t put the book down. Like they’re going to throw it across the room and then chase after it to get One. More. Page.

I want to write the kind of magnetism that emanates from the page, pulls you into the sizzling words, and reads like fizzy Pop Rocks. Like chewy taffy in an addictive twist. And then settles over you like the melt of rich salted caramel in milk chocolate. So, you’re satisfied. Sated. Smiling.

I want to write magnetism. So, I study it. I’m working on my craft. One candy at a time.

MY STORY FOUND a HOME

 

By Raegan Teller

If you write short fiction for publication, you know that sometimes placing your story is as challenging, if not more so, than writing it. My editor told me she wrote a story she tried to place for more than eight years before it was published. Her point in telling me was to say every story has a home—you just have to keep searching for it. Of course, it goes without saying the story must be well written, but many great stories go unpublished because they are homeless.

My editor’s words stayed with me during the past year. Like many writers, I found it difficult to stay focused during the pandemic. At times, I couldn’t work on my fifth book, and I even had trouble reading a full novel. Determined to keep going, I turned to reading and writing short fiction. Perhaps, I thought, these stories would be a better fit for my shortened attention span.

During that time, I wrote a story that came to me in a dream. The following morning, I quickly scribbled the outline so I wouldn’t forget it. Later, I sat down and wrote it, and then edited and polished it over a couple of months.

Not to digress, but another problem I’ve found publishing short stories is that if you write on speculation without a specific publication in mind, finding a home for your story is even harder. One successful short story writer advised to write only stories specifically requested by publishers. Typically, these calls for stories focus on a theme for a publication or an anthology. Her advice was to treat stories as an assignment for which you’re writing. Her sage advice made sense, but just the thought of an “assignment” gave me chilling memories of schoolwork. So, I do the opposite: I write a story and then look for its home.

So, back to my dream story. It could be classified as paranormal or sci-fi, or as one of the many sub-genres, which made the search for its home even more confounding. (Amazon has more than 16,000 genres!) Luckily, I found an online publisher calling for themed stories for an anthology. From their description, my story seemed to be a perfect fit. I eagerly submitted it and waited for the publisher to agree with me.

Obviously, I wouldn’t be writing about this story if it had been accepted. It was rejected, and I was dejected. So, I put the story aside for a while. Then this week, I was meeting with a friend who recently lost her granddaughter in a horrific accident. Since my story’s theme is life-after-death, I took a copy to her in hopes she would find comfort in it.

As she read it, tears streamed down her face. When she finished, she looked at me and said, “Thank you. It’s beautiful. I can’t wait for my family to read this.” At that moment, I knew my story had found a home.

FINDING WORDS to PUT MEAT on the BONES of a STORY

By J Dean Pate

After fifteen years writing radio and TV news copy (way back in my 1960’s smoking and drinking days) my default style years later still is bland, plain vanilla language mainly emphasizing activity. In working on my book, this default setting results in telling rather than showing characters and scenes. It may be good for radio newscasts but not for novels.

My storytelling is forthright but not exactly richly detailed.

Recently, I picked up a book I’d read in college, The House of the Seven Gables, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. I was impressed with the words Hawthorne used to set the scene and describe his characters. The variety of word choices also had me using my laptop to find definitions to understand what he was saying.

Tracking down Hawthorne’s words set me to thinking. It might be useful to use the web or dictionaries, etc. to create a list of words specific to my story. From that I developed a thirty-minutes-a-morning routine of searching for words to help characters and events come alive.

As I worked along, the list grew into sections: descriptions of character, behavior, facial expressions or movements, desires, fears, habits, and thoughts. The exercise has been a helpful tool for identifying words I may have misused and replacing them with those more appropriate.

Now part of my routine includes reviewing the entire list each morning, which helps jump-start my writing.

The web, to me, is an easier resource than flipity-flipping through dictionaries or thesauruses, which I resist, especially if I'm unsure what I'm looking for. It’s easier to Google How do you say…than thinking of what you want to say then turning pages in a thick book for a word you think might work, discovering it doesn’t and being left with where do I look next?

If only Hawthorne had access to Google. Perhaps his phrases might have been forthright and accurate instead of rich but obscure.

Hope this is helpful.

MAKING the STORY COME ALIVE

By Sharon May

A friend of mine, who has read much of my novel in progress, loves the main character Lafe Yates. Once, he told me he saw a man whom he imagined looked like Lafe. My friend said, “He dressed just as I imagined he would. If only I could have heard him speak, I know he would have talked just like you wrote his words.” Ironically, I don’t describe Lafe in detail. But I have given readers enough to have a clear image of him.

Description is crucial but needs to be woven into the story, not plunked down wherever the writer remembers to add it. In my early writing, I would find myself describing for a while, particularly at the beginnings of chapters, only to realize paragraphs or even pages later I had left character development and plot behind, so I would stop describing. Thus there was no clear structure nor flow in the writing.

Realists believed everything and everyone should be described in minute detail if reality is to be recreated in words. Thus, 1,000 page novels. Most readers don’t need or want that much detail. At times when reading another author, I find myself skim-reading hunks of description that seem to go nowhere nor add to the story. Detail overload can be confusing and a mite boring, particularly for the 21^st century reader.

When describing, try for a balance in how much you guide readers to see the world your way and how much they are expected to rely on their imagination.

If you give lots of attention to an object or character, then the reader will place an equal amount of value on that aspect of the story. Readers can finish a work and wonder, “What happened with that teacup the author spent a page describing in chapter two?” If it has nothing to do with the story or theme, don’t give it much attention, no matter how brilliant your words.

Description also helps control the passing of time in a story. If you want the pace to be slow, more description can help create that sensation. Think Moby-Dick as Ishmael lures the reader onto the ship and out to sea, then dives deep into describing everything there is to know about whales and whaling. Hundreds of pages later, the story ends with a rush of plot. Melville’s pacing can make readers feel as if they have been on the ship for months looking for Ahab’s white whale. That is if the reader actually reads all of those words. Most don’t.

To 21^st century reader, every word matters. They usually expect concise but vivid details in a fast-paced read as they live in a world of sound-bites and media overload. Doesn’t mean you can’t describe all the teacups in your opus. Some readers love the challenge of lengthy books. I, for one, have read every word of Moby-Dick more times than I can remember. Just exposing my love of everything Melville.

PERFECT TIMING

By Kasie Whitener

In a central plot point to Thor: The Dark World, the nine realms align for a single moment and travel between them is made possible. There’s some electro-physics-movie-gobbledy-gook to explain the whole thing. But you get the idea: #Fate #Rare #SinglePointofLight #Fiction

You know how you get the sense that the timing is just right for a specific thing to happen? ::whispers:: I think I might be in one of those electro-physics phenomena right now.

Exhibit A: Last week I had a number of emails exchanged and a couple of phone conversations with a literary agent who is “very impressed” with what I’m doing. She means the radio show, the blog, the work with SCWA, and other sundry writing-related marketing suchness my family affectionately calls mom’s unpaid work.

Exhibit B: The third midday session of SCWA’s Writing Conversations last week was led by Barbara Evers, fantasy writer and chapter lead for Greenville. She taught us how to write “The Perfect Pitch” to prepare for, among other things, running into the perfect agent for our work in a hotel elevator somewhere.

Exhibit C: This past Thursday was #pitmad, that delightful internet funhouse wherein authors attempt to sum up their book in 280 characters and attract an agent who will “like” the pitch and thereby invite a query. (Using the appropriate hashtags on Twitter of course.)

Why do we feel like success must be the work of the cosmos? Why can’t it be the coming together of preparation and opportunity? That sweet spot where everything you’ve done to show your value, your talent, and your commitment leaves you gloriously prepared to answer the question perfectly. Like Final Jeopardy. Who knew there’d be a category on American Authors? It’s a good thing I read all those bestseller lists.

I wouldn’t be such a believer in superstition like universe alignment if my first book hadn’t found its  way to publication in pure serendipity. One Saturday in July, after finishing my radio show with my pal Rex Hurst, I said, “I really should get a book published to show I have some credibility around here.” Two hours later, in the swimming pool at Columbia Country Club, I was introduced to Alexa Bigwarfe. She’s a publisher.

It wasn’t instant. Alexa publishes non-fiction and while we had a lot (A LOT) to talk about, I didn’t think we were a perfect fit or anything. Then we started walking our neighborhood in the mornings and over a few miles each day we got to know one another better and then (boom-shaka-laka) we made a deal.

Publishing is business. And business is relationships. And relationships are not lotteries. You pursue them, forge them, nurture them. That’s how we find success.

So why would I think the universe might just align to put my book in front of the right people? Because when you put your book out there – when you put yourself out there – eventually someone pays attention. Just be sure to use the right hashtags.

WRITING LESSONS

By Sharon Ewing 

I don’t have an English degree and never took a journalism course, so I suspected writing my first novel might not be an easy task. But having endless books on the subject and a dedicated group of writers willing to critique my writings, I was ready to do battle. I figured, the more armor I could gather, the better my chances of winning this war of words. I believed, innocently enough, that I’d readily accomplish my goal. Grammar, punctuation and other structural elements were easy-peasy, having taught them over and over ad nauseum for the last several years. Now, I expected I’d master all the intricacies of plot, character development, tension, crafting dialogue and everything else needed to fashion an enjoyable narrative and planned on having my book ready in about a year. I set this goal shortly after retirement, nearly two years ago and true to my expectations, I’ve learned a great deal.

I’ve learned that the road to success is “paved with good intentions.” Mine, I discovered was also mired with innumerable procrastination habits. I indulged in my natural gift for organization to the limit. But setting up my desk, sharpening pencils, arranging my files alphabetically, and buying supplies, sooner or later had to end and putting words on the paper had to begin. I’ve learned that my cell phone is another great distraction, and I must put it out of reach, or I’ll find myself checking e-mails, texts and, oh yes, it’s my turn on “Words with Friends.” I love natural light, but discovered I can’t be facing the window or I’m soon lost in whatever is happening at the bird feeder or daydreaming because something outside triggered an errant thought.

I’ve given myself permission to clear a portion of my day for what I want to do – write without guilt. I’ve learned to put aside the thought of my house gathering dust or worry about the dirty dishes in the sink when I’m writing. (No one is coming during COVID-19 anyway.) I’ve learned it’s okay to tell my husband, “I’m writing when the door is closed, please don’t disturb,” and believe it won’t send me to neglectful spouse’s hell for eternity. On the flip side, I’ve also discovered how supporting other writers can be when presented with copy that is, no doubt, far below their standards, along with their willingness to offer suggestions and encouragement at the same time.

The naïve expectations and assumptions I began with have been disproved. I’ve called out my procrastinations and hopefully exorcised most of them. In short, while the bulk of the novel still resides in my head, and I haven’t come close to the time expectations I now understand were unreasonable to begin with. Yet the many lessons I’ve already picked up on this path allow me to forge ahead. I remain undaunted!

MAYBE THE RULES FOR WRITING FICTION IS TO IGNORE THE RULES

 

By El Ochiis

I once read an article about the “Ten Rules of Writing Fiction” and one of them was to never begin the story with the weather. What if the very thing you needed to write about was central to the story you are about to tell? I meant, if your character is stuck on a road in a remote part of the Yukon, in the dead of winter, weather will be central to the plot. And, a great opening would be: “It was one of those white-outs in Yukon Territory where the blizzard fought for dominance over the impending wind and freezing rain.” Would you not get a visible image of that scene – even if you lived in Bali?

Dorothy Parker once famously quipped, “If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second-greatest favor you can do them is to present them with copies of The Elements of Style. The first-greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they’re happy.”

Rarely is a Parker quip a compliment, but, speaking of the “Style” Bible, it’s been over one hundred years after the birth of E.B. White and good number of years after I first encountered his classic style guide (originally written by William Strunk Jr. in 1918 – but much expanded by White), it may be time to admit that it’s not all it is cracked up to be.

"Don’t use active voice, paragraphs should be more than one sentence, place yourself in the background, avoid foreign languages; stay clear of accents"... Nabokov’s novels are full of foreign languages, and if Nabokov did it, it can’t be that wrong.

Then, there is Rule Sixteen which implores the writer to “prefer the specific to the general, the definite to the vague, the concrete to the abstract.” The book presents two examples, the first, in each, being “wrong:”

A period of unfavorable weather set in.
vs.
It rained every day for a week.

and

He showed satisfaction as he took possession of his well-earned reward.
vs.
He grinned as he pocketed the coin.

Excuse me, but I prefer “a period of unfavorable weather set in,” if only because it’s less usual and banal.

Recently, the New York Times attempted to explain Jane Austen’s enduring popularity by unpacking her word choices – what they discovered was that Austen had a propensity for words like: quite, really and very – the sort that writers are urged to avoid if they want muscular prose. So, writers are to avoid the very language that has made Jane one of the most beloved writers of all time?

Professional writers probably won’t be tied to any rule book, but, students will need to be taught that clarity is king – still, rules learned early on can be tough to shake, and most of us learned, at least a little, from Strunk & White. I understand that writing teachers know that most people need to master the rules before they can break them. But, as a reader, I prefer the offbeat to the standard – in word choice, in subject matter and in structure.

I think my greatest rule is that a piece of writing should follow a path – if readers don’t have a path to follow, they will get lost. Truth is paradox – in the greatest story ever told, the universe was created “as something out of nothing” – the first and most basic creation metaphor. Opposing ideas form the tension of its very premise. My point, there is no writing guide that can teach you style with any skill – it is in choosing which rules to learn and which to break – to what end – that you can begin to construct your own.

BAD FICTION

By Bonnie Stanard

American Book Review has posted online “Top Forty Bad Books.”  However, this is not a list. Rather, numerous college professors discuss what makes a book bad. They get beyond subjective opinions, at least in the sense that theirs are educated subjective opinions.

Does “badness” belong to the book, the reader, or the situation of reading? John Domini of Drake University asks, “Why isn’t bad in the eye of the beholder? Why should a reader go with anything other than their gut?” Readers should go with their gut, but when it comes to giving a book a reputation, one opinion’s not enough.

Terry Caesar wrote, “Can we conclude today that there are no more bad books, only bad readers? Such readers don’t know how to make even the worst books productive.” What? Blame the readers? I can’t buy that. It’s taken me a long time to overcome reader-inferiority. For most of my life, I’ve thought myself a bad (read that moronic) reader if I didn’t like critically acclaimed books.

Terry Caesar also says that Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God, is wondrously bad: stylistically precious, lavishly sentimental, ludicrous of characterization, and incoherent of theme. However, he excuses these problems with “Whether from the point of view of feminism or African American culture, Their Eyes is a damn good book.” Huh? Did the word bad just collide with political correctness and end up on the trash pile?

Though our workshop critiques sometimes get into technicalities, good or bad writing isn’t found in sentence structure or word choice. So what does make a book bad? These are samples drawn from the college professors.

• Does not have inherent empathy.

• Does not take risks. Is not curious.

• Makes direct and obvious attempts to call forth an emotion.

• Romanticizes two-dimensional, cutout characters.

• Plot is obviously manipulated.

• Its “message” remains obscure.

• All story is all pointless. Emotions give the story meaning.

• Makes mistakes in its representation of the material world (realistic fiction).

You could write a book on each of these weaknesses, which apply to concepts. It’s not the details they’re talking about. These mistakes originate with an author’s approach, even with their way of thinking. According to Christine Granados, “The novel is a blueprint into a writer’s soul. When I read what I consider to be a bad book, I notice that it is usually written by an arrogant person.” She explains with examples from Cormac McCarthy’s All the Pretty Horses.

Even books by celebrated authors have ended up on bad-books lists. For instance, novels by Kerouac, Hemingway, Jane Austen, and Milan Kundera are on Nicole Raney’s list, “14 Books We Give You Permission Not to Read.” 

Looking at the sampling of American Book Review’s list of fatal flaws, I see criticisms that suggest character goals for myself as a person. I need to have more empathy, curiosity, and subtleness. I need to be unbiased, spontaneous and audacious, principled, unafraid of emotions, and accurate in perceptions. Does this mean that if I improve myself, my writing will be better? Now let me see. Where to start?

Below are samples of books the professors dared to list as bad books.

Women in Love by D.H. Lawrence - It’s like someone put a gun to Nietzsche’s head and made him write a Harlequin romance.

The Genius by Theodore Dreiser – Dreiser had a mind so crude any idea could violate it.

Pierre by Herman Melville - so extravagantly mannered as to be barely readable.

Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood - protagonists’ tribulations attributed to their alcoholism.

The Great Gatsby - manipulates conventions in order to be a “charming” book.

The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown – formulaic knock-off of fascistic conspiracy theories.

GET BACK TO PLAY

By Kasie Whitener

I’m a swimmer. I started early, as a four-year-old on the six-and-under squad of my neighborhood team. When people ask, I say the only thing I’ve been doing longer than swimming is breathing.

I’m a writer. I started that early, too. In third grade I wrote stories about what happened at home after school that made my teacher chuckle and declare I’d be a fiction writer. In seventh grade I wrote my first novel on four spiral notebooks. When people ask, I say the only thing I’ve been doing longer than writing is swimming. And breathing.

I have left the pool for long stretches of time. Months, sometimes years, go by between me picking up the habit and slowly drifting out of it. When I return, I remember how fun it is to dolphin-kick through the deep end, to take that hard thrust off the wall and glide suspended in the quiet for just a moment.

Likewise, there were long periods of time when I didn’t write fiction. In graduate school I focused on literary criticism. My early career was spent developing marketing copy for print media. As a corporate trainer, I wrote process documentation. During my PhD program, I wrote weekly essays connecting ideas I’d read, demonstrating I was learning and understanding concepts. There was a decided purpose to my work, a destination for it, and I got used to writing being task oriented.

For years, stories bunny-hopped over meadowed pages in my mind, ducked behind trees in a sunlit wood, slipped in and out of shadows. The voices were there – Brian the spoiled college kid mourning his best friend’s suicide, Blue the vampire time-traveler falling for Lord Byron’s sister, Maisy Diller the aging rock star returning to her hometown, even Breezy and Sean circling one another like a pair of twin moons. The voices occupy me like permanent residents of a beach motel: ready to play in the sun whenever I am.

Once I began writing with purpose in 2012, I learned what needed to be done to become read-worthy, and the voices lined up dutifully to complete their tasks.

“Make us ready,” they said. “Share us with the world.”

And fiction writing became work. But that is only one frame through which I can see my writing life.

The other frame, shown to me by Derek Berry at last week’s SCWA Writing Conversations session, is: Writing is fun. Writing can be play.

Writing can be where I come, not to bleed on the page or forge a career for myself, but to explore ideas and fantasies and play with sound and smell and taste and feel.

I shouldn’t have to be reminded that I love to write. I’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember. And yet the reminder to enjoy it, to play, was such a surprising relief that I couldn’t wait to get back to the page.

To type this blog and tell you about it.

INTERVIEW with an 8-YEAR-OLD MAGAZINE PUBLISHER

Over the summer, a couple months into quarantine, 8-year-old Rin Windshadow had a great idea: a magazine with art and stories inspired by nature. Though she and her friends couldn't get together due to the pandemic, the magazine provided a way for them to share ideas and get creative with one another from a distance. Here is what the founding editor has to say about the publication:

"We have a magazine. It is called My Little Quarantine Magazine. We write stories, and we draw pictures.

"It was started at Sesquicentennial Park. The first issue was about nature. My mom and I worked on it. She drew a mustache and a hat on herself.

"We sent it to some friends. They started to write and draw too. We put it together, edited it, and sent it out virtually. It was published every week until school started. Now it does not have a specific time--just when we want to publish it. There have been twelve issues.

"We publish any stories and any pictures--magic, nature, once a picture for a video game. It is cool because there are pictures and writing and photos. I love seeing the drawings my friends make.

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"My favorite stories to write were the stories where I collaborated with my mom. My favorite one was called The Very Bad Witch & The Devil Pumpkin. It was about saving the night and day cycle in a village inhabited by pumpkins. My favorite thing to draw is anything."

Each issue features the work of 3-5 regular contributors and averages 15-20 pages.

For a sample of the work appearing in MLQM, please enjoy this excerpt from Windshadow's The Very Bad Witch & The Devil Pumpkin:

Once upon a time in the land of Pumpkin Town, the sun stopped shining. Without the sun, the population of pumpkins stopped growing.

Kyla got up and looked out her curtains, and saw darkness. She thought, "Oh no! I HAVE to do something!"

She went to her friend Devil Pumpkin to form a plan. Their plan was to go find a witch that could help them--the only witch in Pumpkin Town. She was greedy and sometimes mean, but she was very helpful with things like this.

They found her hut on the swamp at the edge of town. It sat up on stilts. Fog drifted all around. Kyla and Devil Pumpkin had to bounce from lily pad to lily pad to get to the hut. Kyla knocked on the door.

The witch answered. She was bald, with a hat. She had purple eyes, and smelly breath, and a green strap around the hat with a buckle. She wore a black robe and was holding a potion when she opened the door.

"Hunh. What do you want?" the witch snarled.

Devil Pumpkin, who knew the witch better than Kyla, said, "We need a potion to restore the night and day cycle."

The witch said, "First you must find the Soul Slime, and collect five droplets of slime. Bring them to me, and I will give you your potion. . ."

HERE ARE the FOUR DESIRES DRIVING ALL HUMAN BEHAVIOR that YOU CAN USE to CREATE COMPELLING CHARACTERS

By El Ochiis

“What is fueling your character’s desire?” Drilled Elias Dillard of The Italia Conti Academy of Theatre Arts, in London, which specialized in theatre arts training, where I had been offered a non-paid position assisting in production. It was one of those dream jobs that sounded much better on paper than in real life.

“I’m not sure what you mean?” I groaned, with timid insolence, looking down at my script for mercy.

One day, an understudy for a top actor was ill and, another duty got added to my list of unpaid responsibilities - I was asked to read. I read the line like I would have written it, not like the writer had intended. Though my action was met with consternation by the director, my version worked better and he became interested in my work. I was given permission to present to him one of my plays from a series called Splitting Seconds.

“All human activity is prompted by passion - man differs from other animals in one very important respect, he has some desires which are, so to speak, infinite, which can never be fully gratified, and which would keep him restless even in Paradise.”

“Um?” I choked, trying not to cry. I was young, I had no clue what he was referring to. Affecting the stance of an authoritative figure from one of Dickens’ novels, he gestured for me to follow him to his office, a place that housed leather-bound books that were older than the building itself. He had everything in alphabetical order. Pulling one from the “B” Section, he looked up, then down:

“The great British philosophy, Sir Bertrand Arthur William Russell will help you there, my dear.” He offered, with a hint of condescension.

“I had assumed all philosophers were French.” I acerbically responded, taking the book and spending the next week absorbing it like a sponge.

Bertrand Russell, as he is known, states that there are four infinite desires driving all human behavior:

1. Acquisitiveness — the wish to possess as much as possible of goods, or the title to goods — is a motive which, I suppose, has its origin in a combination of fear with the desire for necessaries.

2. Rivalry — he argues, is in turn upstaged by human narcissism - many men would cheerfully face impoverishment if they could thereby secure complete ruin for their rivals.

3. Vanity — a motive of immense potency. Think, children who are constantly performing some antic, and saying “Look at me.”

4. Love of power —the most potent of the four impulses, he would argue – is closely akin to vanity, but it is not by any means the same thing. What vanity needs for its satisfaction is glory, and it’s easy to have glory without power -Power, like vanity, is insatiable. Nothing short of omnipotence could satisfy it completely.

Which of these will you use to drive your character(s) – which two - or all four of them, if you dare?

FRUSTRATION with WRITING

By Sharon May

I have had a tough time writing a blog. In fact, I wrote half of one and trashed it. Figure if I was bored writing it, you’d be bored reading. Instead, I decided to just spew forth my mixed feelings about writing and delve into why I am struggling to keep my butt in the seat.

I love to write. You know, the actual time and energy spent putting words on paper throughout the process, or even just thinking about the characters, plot twists and turns, nice turns of phrase, and spiffy dialogue. I find both great peace and renewal when I can concentrate on playing with language.

Since I am getting closer to finishing my novel, I decided to learn more about what I needed to do to get published. Unfortunately, what I learned was I hate the “business of writing,” which means everything I have to do to publish and sell my works.

Of course, I want to be published, sold, and enjoyed by readers. I don’t want to do what it takes to make that happen. Every time I find myself thinking of “fan base,” “Internet identity,” and “query letter,” my shoulders tense and I squirm in my chair.

It’s the same reason I didn’t get an MBA. Not the least bit interested in reading about business. I learned accounting at my father’s knee, and spent almost 20 years working in the field. I enjoyed it and stopped only because I knew my true calling was teaching composition.

While learning about publishing, I lost my motivation to write, especially for my long works in progress. I have written some shorter pieces so it’s not like all my drive is shot. But time is a-wasting, as people say in the hills of Kentucky.

But it’s not like I can ignore as aspects of the business of writing. Some work needs to be done in the late stages of writing a longer work to be positioned to publish and sell the work. That’s the
quandary. How do I do just enough of the business end without interfering with my writing?

Obviously, I need a staff to help with or even do those tasks, preferably who works pro bono or who will gamble on my future. Of course, I’ve considered having Peggy do more than be an early-draft reader, but she’s so busy I hate to ask more of her. However, her “politicking” should require less of her time. A millennial friend of mine needs to learn how to do what I need done on the Internet, and we are in negotiations.

Intellectually, I know what to do overcome my frustration. I have to write and ignore the future or there won’t be anything to publish. The advice to live in the moment can’t be overstated.

Write on!

IS YOUR WRITING HUMANING?

By Bonnie Stanard

Yes, the word is humaning but it’s new and I may not know how to use it. Among end-of-the-year lists are those that document words making their first appearance. Humaning shows up on 2020 word lists.

It was coined by Mondelez International (think Oreo cookies, Ritz crackers), and it’s getting attention—called ad copy genius by some and tommyrot by others.

In a news release, Mondelez explains that humaning creates a unique approach with real human connections, and will uncover what unites us all. Could we say that is an objective we fiction writers are chasing after? Are our novels being upstaged by a company selling Oreo cookies?

More Mondelez: “We are no longer marketing to consumers, but creating connections with humans.” Mmmm. Quite an assertion for a company selling crackers. On the other hand, it makes sense if you’re selling a story.

Mark Ritson, in an article in Marketing Week calls it “the greatest marketing bullshit of all time,” and “its new approach/philosophy/word makes them look very foolish.” When it comes to crackers, I can see Ritson’s point.

Whatever the controversy, humaning has made its way into the urban dictionary with a definition of “to act in a way that can only be described as human.” So this separates those of us who don’t act like humans from those who do? Then what is the opposite of humaning? Animaling? Nooo. (After all, humans are animals.) So is it planting? Maybe non-humaning? Un-humaning? Please! Don’t accuse me of non-humaning!

Marketing companies use and abuse language to persuade us to buy things. The challenge to copywriters is to attract attention at any cost, well, at almost any cost. Most of us fiction writers use a stable of well-worn words everybody understands. But copywriters resort to flaming language. After all, a fire is noticeable. It’s no surprise that words they add are a blister breed of language.

Marketing language plumbs the depths of our materialistic longing while appealing to the shallowness of our introspection. Take the word masstige (mass + prestige), another new word from the marketing industry. It means targeting the masses with prestigious goods. For example, car companies, such as Mercedes-Benz, have used masstige to sell mid-luxury models.

How about listicle (list + article)? Copywriters discovered that lists and/or bullet points quicken interest in products. If you’re like me, your attention span is better suited to lists than paragraphs.

Or thumb-stopping? Meaning to stop surfers from scrolling. Used by Pinterest, Shutterstock, and Samsung. The idea is that these companies help create online material for mobile devices that is so dynamic surfers come to a standstill.

I didn’t know it, but cutting-edge is out and bleeding-edge is in. What next? Butchering-edge? Killing-edge?

Another new one is immersive experience. This reflects the growth of technology and the inroads it has made influencing our senses. For example, a fitness workout app that resembles a game and provides information about your body.

Two new expressions I find particularly annoying: 1) purpose-driven lifestyle brand, a term used by Blue Apron, Chipotle, Goop and Godiva to describe themselves. I don’t need a company brand to make my lifestyle purpose-driven, thank-you-very-much; and 2) core competency, which means the underlying strength of a company or a person. This suggests that some people do not have core competency, something I find demeaning.

You can catch up on the meanings of some fun words, such as awesomesauce, beardo, amirite, nothingburger, and puggle by checking out Juliana LaBianca’s 2020 word list.