Hey, NaNoWriMos, What's the Problem?

All you literary, avant-garde types please avert your eyes. I know you care less about plot than character development. Go about your business.

Every story, especially a novel, must have a problem. The easiest way to accomplish this is to thwart a character from getting what he or she wants. And any character, if drawn properly, wants something. (Because characters should be like real people, right? I certainly have wants.)

In The Time Machine by H.G. Wells, the Time Traveler wants to prove his theory about the 4th dimension.

In Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, Victor wants to learn the secret of life.

Chief from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey wants to keep hiding.

Even in more "literary" work, the protagonists have desires--love, acceptance, other universal human themes.

The story happens when a character is blocked or thwarted from achieving what he/she wants...or sometimes faces consequences of seeking the object of his/her desire.

The Time Traveler arrives in the future (yay!), but his time machine is stolen, thwarting his return to the present (boo!).

Victor brings the Monster to life, but ugh...dude is ugly. And scary. And lonely. (Um, did I mention vengeful?)

McMurphy punches holes in Chief's defenses and helps him realize there's more to life than hiding--but living life comes with a cost.

In each case, story happens when wants are interferred with.

My latest WIP, a novel (no, not a NaNo novel), my protagonist wants to keep hiding bodies like he's always done, but then a girl moves to town...and he's just not sure anymore. That and the metaphysical consequences of so many unexpected deaths in a small town.

Yeah, that too.

I hope NaNo is going well.

WIP Wednesday: Getting My Hands Dirty

Loathsome has some kinks, but I'm rolling up my sleeves and pushing my fingers into the mud. It's a helluva lot of fun right now. I just edited the first big attack from the Ruined Men. Good stuff.

I like this excerpt because it reveals a little about some of my characters (before the attack, they've just found a body on the beach with its throat torn out):

“Oh?” I pushed the brass gadget into my pocket. “We have what choice, Mr. Olson?”

Olson looked down the line at each man in succession. Captain Greig’s eyes were fastened to the water at his feet. John stood tall, the gun still dangling like a toy at his side. Jim held his rifle cradled at an angle across his chest; his eyes shot occasional daggers at Silas who stood a step behind me and to the left.

“Well, given this,” Olson waved to the black smoke rising from the burning body, “we can head pack to St. Helens. Tell them it’s not safe. We need more men. Different men. The Army.”

Silas stepped forward. “Listen, Mister Olson, it’s real easy for a fella to die out here. Mr. Nobody back there isn’t a sign of anythin’, let alone a reason to tuck tail and scramble back to yer mother.” He glanced at Jim next. “Even though I doubt a mountain lion’s gonna take after a full grown man like that.”

Olson’s eyes widened at Silas’s verbal onslaught, and he took a step back.

“What Mr. Kirchmier is saying, I believe, is that we have a job to do, and the river will not traverse itself. If we stand here and talk about it, we’ll loose the light before we make the first station.” I glanced skyward to emphasize my point. Silas relaxed his shoulders, and Olson nodded with resignation. Jim shook his head.

Too bad most of those guys will be dead by the end of the book.

NaNoWriMos...can you smell the finish line? (If so, what does a finish line smell like?)

I Hope They Burn My Books Someday

We're wrapping up Fahrenheit 451 in one of my classes, and I just want to share my love of Ray Bradbury. I hope they try to burn my books someday.*

(Bradbury's notes about the book title. Click for more from The Big Read.)

Read the Coda to Fahrenheit 451 to find out why.

NaNoWriMos...please write very flammable books. They're the only ones worth reading.

"In the Primal Library" up at Three Crow Press

"In the Primal Library" is one of my favorite stories. It isn't all that "original" and doesn't "add anything new" to the genre. But it was fun to write. I grew up with a library just like the one described, and yes, the second floor was spooky as hell. They even had collections of National Geographic in boxes. At right around 1,500 words, it's perfect 'net length, so give it a whirl if you have a spare 5-10 minutes.

So I've been debating a "collection" of my work. I have a pile of published stories in print and online, and I'm sorta-kinda proud of some of them. Here's the dilemma: collections don't sell all that well (so I'm discovered through bits of research...and I believe it), especially by a nobody like me, so I'd have to proposition various small presses. Not a bad thing, in general, but most (if not all) small presses utilize POD technology (Lightning Source etc.)--the same technology to which I have access. Personally, I don't see any value in trying to find reprint homes for these stories individually (not when I'm still writing new stories and trying to place them). Value in a collection of them, sure. Value in individual reprints, no. Am I making sense?

Sorry for all the parentheses. (really)

But what do I do? I've imagined releasing a free/cheap ebook collection of them myself, printing a copy for my mom (you know how moms are, surely). My goal is to have people read my work, not necessarily make money. I'd love to add value to the collection, too...like explanations of the inspiration behind each piece. Desperately seeking advice here.

Well...enough of that. Today's NaNoWriMo inspiration:

Remember: characters must be pushed beyond their limits to see what they're really made of.

Written by Me (and Send in the Clown)

KV Taylor wrote about recurring themes in her fiction last week (okay, one theme really, but it was blood, and blood is like ten themes in one), and my response:

At the core of most of my schtuff, I guess I’d have to say family dynamics, especially dysfunctional families. Maybe families that are trying really hard to be functional. Single parents. Dead siblings. Poverty.

...well, you read it yourself. Family dynamics are huge: the brothers' relationship in "Tesoro's Magic Bullet" or unresolved issues between the father and son in "The Sub-basement" or even the father and son with absentee mother in "The World in Rubber, Soft and Malleable". Why family dynamics?

I don't know if I've revealed this little tidbit before, but my father died of "complications" related to a brain tumor he developed when I was five. By "complications", I mean the fact that in 1980, when he was diagnosed, radiation was a relatively new treatment for cancer. They bombarded him with radiation, and yeah, it killed the cancer. But his brain started dying, too. You can imagine the changing family dynamics during the following nine years (he died when I was fourteen).

So that probably had a big impact on my life. You think?

I also write about poverty at times. Not about poverty per se, but about characters who aren't social elites. I weary of stories in which all the key characters are professors or princesses or doctors or *ack* writers. You know what? Most people aren't. My characters have worked at meat packing plants, auto parts stores, as secretaries, teachers (duh), custodians, clerks at fishing tackle shops...normal jobs. Not exactly poverty, but definitely with a trend away from high power careers/royalty.

So yeah, that works. There's also the strong inclination toward the unknown. Stranger things happen. I believe in weird. I prefer to watch "average Joes/Josephines" deal with the odd and uncanny than a princess.

I'm quite average, myself. What about you?

Now, I know some of you have come here for NaNoWriMo inspiration. No picture today, I'm afraid, but I do bring you:

The Happy Clown!

(and a friendly reminder to do something unexpected in your novel)

Musical Inspiration for a Grey Day

(photo by Dirk Delbaere)

It's dark and dreary here, so I've dusted off an old song from a forgotten project for a little musical inspiration today. The tune goes well with the photo; if you aren't writing your way down a dark path, download and give a listen some other time, huh?

"Whispers" (mp3)

Happy writing.

Going Down?

Hello, NaNos. One of the common themes in classical literature is the "hero's" journey into the underworld. Odysseus had to do it. So did Orpheus (and we all know how well that turned out). Most Harry Potter books (all of them?) involved our intrepid young wizard in the Forbidden Forest at one point or another. The underworld is usually a place of learning or trials, a place for your MC to meet a mentor or gain wisdom, an important stop on the journey to solving his/her/its "big problem". It doesn't even have to be underground (um, Forbidden Forest, anyone?)

Take your protagonist on a trip to the dark side. He/she/it will emerge stronger, wiser, and/or ready to slay the dragon. (unless, like Orpheus, he/she/it doesn't listen to directions and crosses the streams--er, that's from Ghostbusters)

WIP Wednesday: It Gets a Little Murky

Sometimes, writing feels a little like walking through these woods. A little mystery never hurt anyone, but along with mystery comes the possibility of danger. What, exactly, lurks out there in the fog and shadows?

Like: why am I trying to write a piece of science fiction? Well...it's more horror, really. A man signs on to be the custodian of a group of colonists as they take a thirty year journey into deep space. He only signs on because his family suffers in abject poverty. He won't see them again, but they will live a healthy, safe life thanks to his sacrifice.

Of course...

Seven years, three months, and twenty-two days on route, ship’s custodian Gant Forres dreamed of the rats.

After that, he starts hearing them in the hull of the Rocinante. (nods to Lovecraft)

Let's just say it gets dark from there...

Contrast This!

This one could easily be titled "grow where you're planted", but I'm not going that cliché. No, this photo is really about contrasts. Does your novel have them? Does your protagonist have a foil, another character rife with opposing characteristics--greedy when the MC is generous, vindictive when the MC is forgiving, meticulous when the MC is slovenly...

Contrast helps bring out a character's traits and creates drama and suspense. Contrast makes for good fiction.

Hope your day is full of contrast. In a good way, of course.

Fight! Fight! Fight!

Yes, NaNoWriMos, sometimes things need to get physical. Sometimes characters need to physically assault one another, regardless of the genre of your book. Physical altercations amp up the drama, the threat level (hey, I could bleed here), and provide much needed umph when we've had too many pages of dialogue. Remember, any good fight scene is like a good sex scene: let the reader fill in as many blanks as possible. It's easy to overwrite both. No one needs a two page nanosecond by nanosecond recap of one fist coming into contact with another character's jaw. Maybe your big fight scene doesn't move past one character snapping a pencil in two when he/she sees a rival. That works, too. Physicality makes those characters' emotions real.

Fighting isn't your protagonist's style? No one said your MC had to be in on the action, did they?

Faith at Every Day Fiction

...and yes, I've realized there is a misused word in the last paragraph. Yes, adsorbed is a "real word". It just doesn't mean to permeate the skin.

So, if you can stomach a little vocabulary infraction and some Nyotaimori, read "Faith". Let me know what you think. The story came about after reading a random news bit about the "dish".

Today, dear NaNoWriMos, investigate your protagonist's deepest beliefs. These will bubble to the surface in times of trial, either crushed by circumstance or strengthened.

The Tibetan prayer flags are in honor of K.V. Taylor's wonderful entry, "Boudha" in Grant's Pass. Have a lovely Saturday.

Words Per Minute

The man with nine fingers leans forward, his face cut with shadows and light under the lamp. "You got 'em, Manny?"

"Sure." Manny places a crinkled paper sack on the table, reaches inside, and produces a rag. He unwraps the first layer of the rag, revealing dark stains on the folds underneath."Five choices this time...hope one works."

The man with nine fingers slides his right hand under the lamp. The pinkie is severed at the second joint, a clean cut with little scar tissue.

"This one ain't gonna work," he says, lifting one finger from the cloth. "Too short. They'd snipped it at the wrong knuckle."

Manny nods and dabs his damp forhead with the back of his arm.

The man with nine fingers procedes to try each remaining pinkie next to his stump, scrutinizing them under the harsh lamplight, comparing skin tone, size, fit. With a grunt, he tosses the last on the rag with the others and pushes away from the table.

"No good?" Manny asks even though he knows.

"No."

Manny collects the cast offs in his paper sack. "I'll see what I can do...but really, is it worth--"

"Yes, it is." The man with nine fingers frowns. "I don't mind the quotation mark so much--I don't write a lot of dialogue. But the return. The return key is a stretch. Slows me down."

Manny fidgets with the paper sack, crinkling it in his fists.

"It's NaNoWriMo, Manny." The man with nine fingers knocks on the table. "I gotta get my WPM up there. 50K ain't gonna type itself."

No Rules. No Guarantees.

Hey, nobody said NaNoWriMo (or writing in general) was going to be easy. But there's another message in that sign. Take chances, make the courageous, daring choice, write hard. No one wants to read another version of what's come before. No one wants the same thing, warmed over, and served cold. This is a time to be bold and foolish with your writing; you just might like the outcome.

WIP Wednesday: Yes, Danger

What nameless disease are these members of the Policia hiding from? Danger is vital to good fiction, regardless of the genre. Even literary tales have a solid dose, whether it be the threat of physical harm or more subtle dangers (living outside one's social circle, trying a new career...etc.).

My WIP? I finished another story (now I have two in the revision que). "_____" (insert story name here) is about a pair of mismatched friends growing up in a small town about to be flooded by an Army Corps of Engineers reservoir project. "Creatures" in the woods and the soon-to-be flooded river haunt one, while the other must deal with his shiftless, alcoholic father.

The grasshopper worked its thick hind legs, fighting in Johnny’s grasp. Its mouthparts massaged a drop of brown sludge, trying to smear the offending liquid on the boy’s fingers, a defense mechanism the boys called “chewing tobacco”—a stain the insects would leave behind on their human captors. Johnny thought of the hook, the sharp, sun-sparkling barb pushing through the mottled green of the insect’s thorax. He imagined the strong legs kicking in the water as the grasshopper drowned, lost in the black water, and he felt the fear in his throat.

Perhaps all the NaNo talk out there has inspired me. I've started laying the brickwork (i.e., backstory) for a new book, a haunted house tale which I hope takes a different angle from what's come before. Time will tell.

In the meantime, I leave you with danger.

Now, Let's Have A Traffic Jam...

So you've discovered what your protagonist lusts after, now frustrate her/him with a good old fashioned traffic jam (I'm writing metaphorically here, unless a real traffic jam works).

Nothing creates dramatic tension (uh, suspense) more than making the protagonist wait, and every good traffic jam carries an element of danger (more suspense!). Would you really want to find yourself in the middle of the cluster-$&#^ above?


Speaking of traffic jams (I don't have a better segue), A very nice review of Triangulation: Dark Glass popped up on Sunday at SF Crowsnest, including a favorable mention of my story, "Dancing Lessons".

Although well-written these didn't hold up as well as Arron [sic] Polson's very short story, 'Dancing Lessons', where a small girl briefly aids a resurrected hobo who was temporarily augmented as his body started to fail...

Nice mention. Nice blurb to add to the website and all, but my name...oh well. What's in a name, anyway?

That's Right, NaNos: Lust.

Remeber your main character has to want something. Lust for something.

Sure, it can be a man, woman, what-have-you in a sexual sense, but lust can also refer to power, money, objects, etc. Lust is also a nice reminder that the best verbs really grab a reader.

Hop over to Nossa Morte when you have a spare moment and read "Tesoro's Magic Bullet". And have a great writing day.

Charge, NaNoWriMos!

Yes, that's you, NaNoWriMos. A charging rhinoceros on day one. Cruise past 1,667 words. Charge right toward 5,000. No one can stop you.

Splat...

...go my thoughts, spraying every which way.

Firstly, two great contests find themselves in full, um, gear. KV Taylor asks what nasty (fictional) villain or other undesirable you might bring to a Halloween party. Barry Napier wants recommendations for quality, online dark fiction at his blog. Try 'em out. You might win something fun.

Secondly, Cate Gardner will be cheering on our NaNoWriMo suckers friends. I'll be there, too, bringing the pictures (each post in November will have an "inspiring" photo). My Friday flash might even have a NaNo theme. Time will tell.

Thirdly, 52 Stitches will change its look a little this Saturday (Halloween). I'm running a poll for font/background color suggestions. You can also use our newly purchased url: http://www.52stitches.com/ (which redirects to the blog). Yes, I've given up--the "official" name of the site is 52 Stitches (in numeral form, not word). If you don't know what I'm talking about, that's fine. I'm not sure I do, either. (I tried sooooo hard for Fifty-Two Stitches to stick...but the url is sooooo much easier this way. Ease=more memorable.)

Finally, I'm thrilled that "Inked" will find itself in this year's Every Day Fiction anthology. Of the four pieces I've had in EDF, "Inked" was the one which received the most derisive comments. Go figure.

Happy Monday, everyone.

WIP Wednesday: Scraps

I was trying to sew together some stray bits and pieces, hopefully rendering something worthwhile from the fragments of my flash drive. So then, I take a walk, and WHAM!

...new ideas start smacking me around like a stubborn mackerel. (die fish, die)

Other than furiously scribbling notes and typing bulleted points, I rewrote a thrice rejected piece this week, finished a longer tale about Gary Sump, "The Great God Gary Sump", and flirted with revisions to Loathsome, Dark, and Deep. I've also made a decision regarding NaNo.

Not this year.

I know I'm going to feel "left out", but I have to do what is right for me and my writing. Peer pressure is a bitch. I don't want to be the kid on the outside looking in, steaming the window with my breath. NaNo is a great motivator. Right now, my most important WIP is trying to shake a lingering cough and land a decent night's sleep.

So I'll spend the rest of October cobbling scraps together, editing Loathsome, and plotting a novel that I won't try to finish in one month. (But I do plan on starting in November.)

I have nothing else in progress, but here's the title to my notes from last night's walk:

"The Unfortunate Persistence of Harold Francis Bechard"

(cough, cough)

WIP Wednesday: Zombie Snails!

How could I watch this video about zombie snails and not be inspired to write something?

I call my take "Guided by Wire" and it will appear in a future edition of the new Night Chills magazine. A man who eats of the snail that has eaten of the worms...

Okay, so what am I working on, now? I finished "Tap, Tap" last weekend...it needs some significant edits, but I do like the ending. Nothing is more important than the end of a short story (only if nothing is another name for the beginning).

I'm halfway through another piece I'm calling "Shallow Drownings". Damn if Lovecraft isn't still sitting on my shoulder, this story involves swimming pool portals, a remorseful father, and little invaders that take the form of children (children a little like those in The Brood). I have one more short I want to wrap up before the end of the month. "Tony's Apartment" has sat half-finished for about three months, and now is the time.

October is for novel edits (Loathsome, Dark and Deep)...November...well, maybe I'll do NaNoWriMo again. Maybe.

From "Shallow Drownings":

“I didn’t know who else to call, Mick.” The thinner of the men fidgeted with his wedding ring. “If I call the cops—”

“I am the cops, Steve.” Mick pulled in a lungful of night air and pushed back his broad shoulders. He took a step toward the body, tilting his head for a better look at the mass of disordered blonde hair. “Looks young. Maybe twelve…thirteen. You don’t know who she is?”

Steve paced forward, then back. “I swear to God man.”

Mick pulled on a latex glove and knelt next to the body. He poked a cheek with his finger, testing for warmth. “All right. Here’s what you need to do. Call 911.”

“But—”

“But I was never here, got it?”

Steve nodded.

Have a magnificent Wednesday. For those of you who check the time stamp: it's early here. Stupid allergy season.