Category: Writing (page 51 of 81)

Anthology of Interest

Courtesy impactguns.com

A few of them exist here in draft form, and I’m keeping others under wraps for now. But the fact is I’ve written six short stories mixing old folk tales and myths with relatively modern genres. While I dive headlong into to the rewrite of the novel currently entitled Citizen in the Wilds, I want to keep these yarns on the backburner, because I think there’s potential here to entertain and maybe inspire.

But I have no idea how good it is or how soon I can present it… or even what to call it!

Maybe I should hunt down an agent. I’ve been considering that possibility, as it may help relieve some of the pressure of hunting down everything that needs to be done in order to bring this thing to life, rather than having it lay around my metaphorical table like so many dead components. But how does one go about pitching an anthology? Is it as simple as saying “Hi, I wrote story X, Y, and Z and want to put them together, it’ll soar like an eagle in outer space and you totally wanna tap this”?

I’d like to hire an editor. Some of these stories are months or even years old. I’m certain they need work. I’m perfectly willing to put two in the chest and one in the face of any turns or beats that don’t work – I just need to know where to aim. Hopefully I can make arrangements for that after getting my feet under me again thanks to the new dayjob.

By the same token, I’m going to need a cover artist. If this anthology does make it to Kindles and Nooks and whatnot, there’s no way I’m letting it leave my sight when even the potential exists for it to look like it was put together by a scrub. It’s another step between the raw form of the stories and the finished anthology I’d be willing to pay for.

Finally, the whole thing needs a name. It’s something I’ve been thinking about, because how does one sum up the conceptualization of a Japanese mythic figure in a period horror piece, a Norse myth in the Old West, a Chinese celestial tale cast as a modern romance, a Grimm fairy tale dressed as superheroics, a Native American creation story in the dark streets of cyberpunk and a Greek myth played out through science fiction?

I’m still trying to figure it out. Ideas are welcome, as are volunteers to take a stab at the aforementioned aspects I can’t handle myself.

Okay. Now what?

Bard by BlueInkAlchemist, on Flickr

No Flash Fiction this week, as Chuck Wendig is busy putting us through our paces in a monthly worldbuilding exercise. I love building new worlds – I even plan on teaching a class about it – but I find myself wondering about the foundations we build those worlds upon, because I’m at a point where I’m asking myself about what and why I’m writing.

Entire books can and have been written on the foundations of worlds like Middle-Earth, Narnia, the universe of Star Trek and so on. But I’m willing to wager none of these worlds sprang fully-formed from the minds of their creators. Rather, there was purpose in mind. Tolkien was seeking hope in the face of intimidating enemies. Lewis wanted to tell new parables. Gene Roddenberry had a desire to preach tolerance and utopia.

Turning my thoughts inward, I’m creating Acradea as the means to examine the growth of a young man of privilege when those privileges are taken away from him, rather than the usual formula of a young adult protagonist rising from obscurity to become some sort of chosen one. I’m envisioning a bleak future Earth in Cold Iron to show a mature, delicate and very tenuous balance in a battle between forces of stasis and change. I toss old myths with recent genres to show that while some stories may be old, they still have something to tell us.

Note that I’m making these statements after at least the first draft is written for each of the works described. Asking me about the foundations of the worlds I create as I’m creating them might have gotten you a rambling, unfocused answer dancing around the point, or worse, a shrug of the shoulders and a mutter “Heck, I dunno, I just work here.”

That won’t and shouldn’t be the case for everybody, though. Maybe you have a solid idea of how you want your world to grow and what it’ll be rooted in, but are unsure of how to proceed up from that foundation. Or, perhaps you have a vague idea of where to begin and how your story will end, but the stuff in the middle is what’s fuzzy. We all approach our craft in different ways, and while our paths may spiral off into disparate directions, there’s one question every writer can, does and should ask, at least once, be it at the beginning, middle or end of the process.

“Okay. I’ve got my foundation/outline/characters/big climactic battle with guns and doves and whatnot. Now what?”

The answer may simply be “write more”. It could also be “stop writing and read.” And on occasion, it’s “break out the booze.”

Where do you find yourself asking these questions? How do you tend to proceed?

Passing the Test

Checklist

No writer is an island.

Oh, writing’s a solitary profession, no doubt about it. Locked in a corner with only a bottle of booze for company, etc and so on. We grow our beards, we yell obscenities at our pets, we quietly cry as we contemplate our heroes having sex. We do this all on our own.

But unless you’re planning on writing an epic twenty-seven chapter series of Terra Nova fan fiction, the point of writing is to create something for others to enjoy. How are you going to know if said others will enjoy it if nobody else reads it before you’re trying to get them to buy it?

The solution is to climb out of your writer-hole and put your words in front of someone else’s eyeballs. We call these unfortunate slobs brave volunteers test readers.

I love my test readers. Most of the people I engage to look over a chapter or passage of work give me feedback beyond “It’s good” or “This sucks.” And I try to do the same in return.

The best time to get a test read done is when you have a specific concern. Does our hero come off as sympathetic? Does this action flow as well as I think it does? Is anybody going to buy a zombie cyborg Hitler rising from the grave only to face a down-on-his-luck high school senior possessed by the two-fisted ghost of Teddy Roosevelt?

Test readers, to me, are invaluable. They’re the grounded and sober advisors to the drunken raging dictators we are towards our stories. They’re equal parts supporter and critic. They’re the hitmen (hitpeople?) we must hire from time to time to subject our self-doubt to the Mozambique Drill.

“Oh, what’s that? You think your work sucks?” Pop pop. POP. “There. It doesn’t suck. But it DOES need a couple of tweaks.”

If you’re writing is going along and you’re not quite sure how well you’re doing, or you don’t know how to get past your first chapter, or you’re all done (or think you’re all done) and want to ensure you’re ready for the next step, get a test reader. Or two. Or five. Especially if you have a trusted friend or two willing to tell you exactly what they think, put your words in front of your eyeballs.

You’ll bite your nails in anticipation of them finishing. You’ll wonder why you didn’t catch what’s obvious to them. You’ll curse them for making you do more work.

And then you’ll thank them. With praise, gifts, booze and who knows what else. They’ll have earned it, and your work will kick even more ass as a result.

Flash Fiction: Another Three Sentences

Bard by BlueInkAlchemist, on Flickr

Brevity is the soul of this latest challenge from Chuck Wendig.


The protagonist has reached this point through trial and error (mostly error) but the goal is now within reach, allies close by and enemies poised to strike.

The audience is expecting a resolution to the conflict, be it a happy ending, one involving varying degrees of sacrifice or even something where the goal is achieved but our protagonist does not see that achievement because they have to die or become crippled or board a ship with elves on it or something.

So… what happens next, writer?

Book Review: The Hunger Games

On our final trip to the local Borders book store, my wife and I picked up a few things, such as Earth: The Book, which is every bit as hilarious as you can imagine, and the first collection of the Path of the Planeswalker mini-comics based on Magic: the Gathering. On something of a whim, I also picked up the first novel in a trilogy penned by Susanne Collins called The Hunger Games. As I’m aiming one of my novels squarely for the upper end of the young adult audience, I figured it would be good for me to know what I’m up against.

Finishing this book has convinced me I need to step up my game.

Courtesy Scholastic Books
“May the odds be ever in your favor.”

The Hunger Games opens with a bleak picture of our future. After some North American catastrophe that is merely hinted at, we are introduced to the nation of Panem, a glimmering but austere Capitol surrounded by twelve specialized and somewhat downtrodden Districts. Our heroine, Katniss Everdeen, hails from the coal mining District 12, where she and her friend Gale must hunt in the forests (illegally) for food and supplies their families wouldn’t be able to afford otherwise. At sixteen, Katniss has spent most of her adolescence signed up for the Hunger Games, where two children conscripted from each District fight to the death for the honor of bringing home wealth, food and prestige. When Katniss’ little sister’s name is drawn for this years Games, Katniss volunteers in her stead. What happens next goes far beyond the needs of Katniss’ family and opens up a greater world of danger, intrigue, romance and adventure.

Suzanne Collins clearly has a plan that extends beyond this book. As the first part of a trilogy, The Hunger Games must set up the characters, locations, events and themes to service the entire overall story. However, at no point does the book feel dry or overly expository. The perspective of Katniss both allows for the introduction of the necessary elements mentioned and keeps us firmly in the narrative of the story at hand. It’s a fantastic example of characterization and plotting woven together to create a coherent first act that manages to stand alone.

Speaking of characters, Collins also does a wonderful job fleshing out the people of Panem. Katniss as a heroine is at once strong and vulnerable, intelligent and naive. She feels, talks and reacts like a real person, with palpable confusion in some moments and grim resolution in others. Her fellow tribute from District 12, Peeta, shows a great deal of complexity as well, along with some of the adults involved and the tributes from other Districts. The entire enterprise from start to finish has all of the hallmarks of careful construction, not only creating this new world of a potential future but also giving readers a reason to care about it.

The sensationalism and spin doctoring of Panem surrounding the Hunger Games and the undercurrent of oppression and misery feels close to home. There are eerie similarities between the ways in which the Capitol interacts with its Districts and the rhetoric and attitude of certain elements in today’s world in general and the United States in particular. Between this similarity and the presentation of Katniss, Collins draws the reader in and refuses to let go, compelling each page to turn as the action unfolds. When the book is over, the readers is satisfied with the conclusion but left wanting more, which is exactly how any book should end, but especially when more are planned to come after it.

The Hunger Games is a wonderful book, deeply involving and a delight to read. And yet it’s only the first part of a greater narrative exercise. Subsequent books are poised to deliver more great characterization, a deeper exploration of the world of Panem, and more sleepless nights for the reader as they (that is, we) eagerly turn page after page. Good luck putting this one down.

If this is what the kids are reading these days, the work of aspiring novelists like myself has clearly been cut out for us.

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